Читать книгу Bought: The Penniless Lady - Deborah Hale - Страница 10

“Hush, dearest!” Half an hour after her confrontation with Mr. Northmore, Artemis had still not succeeded in quieting her nephew.

She’d tried feeding him, changing his linen, bouncing him in her aching arms until she feared they would be wrenched out of their sockets. Nothing had worked. After a year of caring for Lee day and night, Artemis recognized the difference between a hungry cry, a weary cry or an injured cry. This was one she had not heard often—a wail of bloody-minded vexation.

“Hush!” she begged him again, practically driven to tears herself. “This won’t endear you to Uncle Henry. He may toss us both out tonight and have done with it.”

She would give anything for an hour’s peace to review her limited options and decide what to do next. The sudden appearance of Hadrian Northmore had made an already desperate situation far worse. Despite her brave boast about never letting him have Lee, Artemis feared she might soon have no choice.

Even if she’d been willing to entrust Lee to one of Bramberley’s tenants, Mr. Northmore could easily bribe such people to give him the child. If she defied Uncle Henry’s orders and got them expelled from Bramberley, she had no money to provide for her nephew. Even if she could find work as a governess or companion to some ailing dowager, she would never be permitted to keep a child with her. Which would place her right back where she’d started.

Heaving a dispirited sigh, Artemis sank onto the nearest chair and took her nephew’s weight onto her knees. For a moment his cries quieted. Then he inhaled several deep, wet breaths and began to howl again.

“You must get your temper from the Northmores.” Artemis struggled to wipe his dribbling nose with her handkerchief. “Your eyes, too. They are the very same shade of gray as his.”

That should have not come as a surprise, but somehow it did—this intimate connection between the child she loved and the man she loathed. Was it possible Lee sensed it, too?

“You would go with him in a trice, wouldn’t you, ungrateful little creature? What would become of you then?” What would become of him? She’d been so preoccupied with venting months of pent-up frustration upon Hadrian Northmore, she had never bothered to enquire about his plans for the boy.

Now that she’d purged some of those dangerously intense feelings, Artemis found herself able to view the situation more objectively. Was it possible her interests and Mr. Northmore’s might not run altogether contrary? After all, they had one important thing in common—they both wanted Lee when no one else seemed to.

“I vowed I would do anything to keep you.” Artemis cuddled the crying child close and drizzled kisses over his tear-streaked little face. “And Mr. Northmore threatened to do anything to get you. Perhaps we need to find out just how far each of us is willing to go.”

Lee seemed to endorse her idea. Or perhaps he was only responding to her kisses and calmer tone of voice. His cries lapsed into a series of sniffling hiccoughs. Artemis rubbed his back while she talked through her plans.

“I cannot let Mr. Northmore know how desperate our situation is. I am certain he is the kind of man who would not scruple to exploit an adversary’s weakness. So I must act quickly, before he discovers mine.”

Summoned to the inn’s back parlor, Hadrian paused on the threshold. “Why, Lady Artemis, this is a surprise.”

Not only was he astonished that she’d sought him out after their hostile exchange the day before, she scarcely looked like the same woman he’d happened upon while scouting out Bramberley. If it had not been for her haughty manner and formal way of speaking, he might have mistaken her for a nursemaid taking his nephew for an outing in the fresh spring air.

Today she looked every inch the daughter of a marquis, from the toes of her kid slippers to the crown of her chip hat. A footman in full livery lurked beside the door. This was what Hadrian had pictured when Ford first mentioned Lady Artemis Dearing.

She acknowledged his greeting with a cool half smile. “Perhaps now you will understand how I felt when you appeared out of the blue yesterday, Mr. Northmore. After we parted, I had an opportunity to reflect upon our conversation and repent my incivility. I have come to apologize for any offense I may have given.”

Her speech was a model of polished courtesy, expressing all the proper sentiments. Hadrian did not believe a word of it. Given a choice, he would far rather receive pithy insults from the lady’s pretty lips than insincere apologies.

What had brought her here, then, if not genuine regret for the way she’d abused him yesterday? Was she hoping to scare him off with a show of grandeur?

“That is most gracious of you.” Determined to demonstrate he could play her game, Hadrian reached for her slender, gloved hand and lifted it to his lips. “I hope you will disregard anything I may have said in the haste and heat of temper.”

Speaking of heat, he could not forget the unwelcome spark that had crackled through him when her fingers brushed against his leg. Or when he’d caught her and his nephew in his arms. An echo of it kindled in his lips as he inhaled a faint whiff of lavender from her glove.

“Of course.” Her answer sounded a trifle breathless.

Hadrian glanced up to see a flattering hint of color blossom in her cheeks.

Her hand jerked back as if she feared he might bite off one of her fingers. “I was hoping we could discuss the matter you raised yesterday. This time without haste or temper, but calmly as civilized adults.”

Did she doubt him capable of calm discussion and civilized conduct? Though he’d made a show of accepting her apology, Hadrian resented the insults Lady Artemis had hurled at him during their first encounter. And he would never forgive her family for bringing about his brother’s death.

“I would welcome the opportunity.” Her sudden willingness to negotiate made him wonder if her position was as strong as he’d feared. “Where shall we talk?”

“Why not here?” Lady Artemis glanced around the rustic room with a massive brick hearth at one end. “I took the liberty of speaking with the innkeeper. He assured me we would not be disturbed.”

Anticipating Hadrian’s agreement, she seated herself on a sturdy armchair upholstered with horsehair.

“Very well.” Hadrian sank onto a matching chair opposite her. “By the matter, I presume you mean my intention to seek custody of my nephew.”

“Just so.” Lady Artemis hesitated, as if trying to decide how to begin. “I am curious to learn more about your plans for Lee and to discover why you want him so badly. Have you no children of your own?”

The unexpected question made Hadrian flinch. He hated being reminded of that tiny grave in the Company cemetery at Madras. “I am not married, nor do I intend to be.”

Once had been enough to convince him marriage and a family were not his destiny.

“Then who would care for Lee, Mr. Northmore? I understand you have been very successful in the East Indies trade. Would you retire from it and settle permanently in England, as Lord Kingsfold has done?”

Hadrian shook his head vigorously. “I have fared well in the Indies, especially since moving my business to Singapore, but most of my fortune is invested in my company. I must return after Christmas when the East Indies fleet sails.”

Before he could answer her other question, Lady Artemis cried, “You would drag a small child half a world away from everyone and everything he has ever known?”

“Of course not!” Did she think he was mad? “The tropical climate is a scourge on European children. My partner’s young daughter seems to thrive on it, but she is an exception. My friend Raffles lost three of his four children to disease in half a year.”

He did not speak of his own bereavement. That was none of this proud lady’s business. “I would find someone trustworthy to care for the child here in England and see that he is given every advantage money can buy.”

Lady Artemis edged forward in her chair. Was she going to remind him what she’d said yesterday about all the things his money could not buy?

“I am vastly relieved to hear you do not intend to uproot Lee and take him off to such an unhealthy place.” For the first time since they’d met, she seemed to regard Hadrian with approval. “But surely you must understand why I cannot give up my sister’s son, a child I have cared for since he was born, to be brought up by strangers?”

“Yes…well…” Put like that, his plans for the lad did sound rather unfeeling.

Hadrian reminded himself there was a world of difference between his idea of caring for a child and that of people like the Dearings. His nephew would not pine for a woman who stopped by his nursery now and then or took him for an occasional stroll.

But there was a note of urgency in the lady’s tone he could not deny. “No caretakers, however well paid, could have the same concern for Lee’s welfare as his blood relatives. He is such a little fellow and you will be so far away. How would you know if such people were providing him with proper care?”

“I have eight months to find someone suitable. Surely by then…” Hadrian refused to admit how much her suggestions unsettled him. As did the reminder of his greatest weakness—time. Any legal measures he might take to gain custody of his nephew would not be swiftly resolved. Especially against a family as well connected as the Dearings. To keep the child, Lady Artemis had only to delay until Hadrian was obliged to return to Singapore.

And he had as good as told her so.

If the lady realized it, she did not gloat over the fact. “Perhaps our aims are closer than they might first appear, Mr. Northmore. I want to raise Lee to be a gentleman of honor, as I promised his mother. You have the admirable intention of providing him with every material advantage. Rather than fight over him like those two women in the story of King Solomon, could we not cooperate to give our nephew the best possible upbringing?”

The suggestion sounded reasonable enough. And Lady Artemis looked so appealing with her subtle, twilight beauty. It made Hadrian want to agree, if only to coax a smile from her. Then he recalled some of the insults she‘d hurled at him the day before. He also recalled how his brother had been killed for presuming to make love to her sister.

“Cooperate in what way?” He peered into the blue-violet depths of her eyes, striving to fathom her true motives.

“Is it not obvious? If you take custody of Lee, you will need someone to supervise his upbringing when you return to the Orient. I wish to continue caring for him, but I do not find Bramberley well suited to raising a high-spirited young child. Surely the most reasonable course…”

A clutch of hot coals began to smolder in the pit of Hadrian’s belly. “You mean you would be willing to take my vulgar money to live in high style in your own establishment?”

Her eyes flashed with outrage, but she maintained her facade of courtesy. “That accusation is most unworthy of you, sir. However great your fortune, you could not possibly provide me with accommodations to equal Bramberley. But a grand house is not necessarily the best place to bring up a child. I had something more modest in mind.”

She had a valid point, much as it vexed Hadrian to admit. Anyone else he hired to care for his nephew might be tempted to enrich themselves at the child’s expense. Artemis Dearing’s wealth set her above mercenary considerations. Was it possible his suspicions about her were unfounded?

“I beg your pardon, ma’am. I cannot help but wonder why you would be willing to do this for me. Especially considering your attitude toward my brother. Yesterday you said I was the last person in the world to whom you would give your nephew. What has changed your mind?”

Hadrian Northmore was a dangerous man. Artemis had sensed it from the moment she’d first glimpsed him on the heath near Bramberley. Now, as she scrambled to contrive an excuse he might believe, she was more certain than ever.

Though it sickened her to contemplate taking his money to care for her nephew, she reminded herself it was for Lee’s sake. If his uncle agreed to her proposal, they would never have to be parted and Lee could have all the advantages she would never be able to provide for him otherwise. Surely his mother would have approved, even if it cost Artemis her pride?

“What changed my mind? Why, you did, sir, by explaining your plans just now, so that I could see your gaining Lee did not have to mean I must lose him. Also, much as it pains me to admit, my sister did care for your brother. I do not believe she would want me to keep their son from you.”

“If I agreed to this arrangement, would you permit the lad to bear my family name?” The severe set of Mr. Northmore’s wide mouth warned Artemis this mattered a great deal to him.

Her tongue burned with the urge to refuse his presumptuous demand. Who were the Northmores, after all? Nothing but mushrooms—so called because they sprang up fast out of the dung. Her family had been in the first rank of British society for centuries. The third Marquis of Bramber had borne the canopy over King Charles I at his coronation. His grandson, Viscount Singlecross, had helped put down Monmouth’s Rebellion. Lady Lettice Dearing had been a lady-in-waiting to Queen Anne.

Nothing but the thought of Lee’s stout little arms around her neck and the sweet gurgle of his laughter could have compelled Artemis to reply, “If you insist.”

“I do.” Mr. Northmore’s harsh tone made those two words sound like a threat.

Artemis refused to be intimidated. “Though I do not understand why it matters.”

His powerful hands tightened around the arms of his chair. “It matters because my nephew is the last of our line. I am determined to rescue my family from the brink of extinction and raise it to a place of prominence, from which it will never be threatened in future.”

That proved precisely what she had suspected—the man was nothing but a power-hungry social climber. Artemis strove to keep her lip from curling.

“Prosperity is no guarantee of survival, sir. Many a noble house has died out for lack of heirs.” The Dearings might soon be among them, thanks to this man’s brother.

“They haven’t enough good red blood.” Hadrian Northmore did not bother to hide his contempt. “Whatever our other faults, my family does not shrink from breeding.”

The man had already made her blush once, when he’d kissed her hand in the manner of a true gentleman. Now he did it again with a most ungentlemanly remark. Artemis had good reason to know the Northmores did not shrink from breeding—even outside the bounds of matrimony.

“Are we agreed, then?” Artemis hurried on. “You will provide for all Lee’s material needs, while I attend to his upbringing?”

“Not so fast, if you please.” Hadrian Northmore leaned back in his chair, resting his strong, jutting chin against his raised fist. “I foresee some difficulties with this proposed arrangement of yours.”

“Such as…?”

His narrowed eyes ranged over her in a way that made Artemis squirm. “An unwed lady living on her own—wouldn’t be proper, would it? The lad already has one strike against him, being born on the wrong side of the blanket.”

“I always conduct myself with the utmost propriety, sir. I resent your suggestion that I would ever do otherwise, particularly with an impressionable young child in my care.”

If it were possible for her to stray from the path of strict decorum, a man like Hadrian Northmore might tempt her. That unwelcome thought shook Artemis to the solitary, sensible core of her being.

“I am not saying you would do anything improper.” His tone implied that he did not think her capable of it. “I am only saying it might appear so. Appearances matter to the kind of people I want the boy associating with once he’s older.”

It galled Artemis to admit the truth of that. Members of the ton could get away with the most despicable wrongdoing, provided they were discreet. Yet a perfectly harmless incident could bring down the full weight of society’s censure, simply because it had the appearance of impropriety. If anyone had seen her out on the heath yesterday in Hadrian Northmore’s arms, it could have ruined her reputation. If he were a gentleman, honor would have dictated he make her an offer of marriage.

That improbable notion sent her pulse into a skittish dance, which Artemis struggled to ignore. “I am certain I could find a respectable chaperon, if you felt it was necessary. Have you any other objections?”

Mr. Northmore nodded. “Such a handsome lady is bound to attract suitors, especially if she is in control of her young ward’s fortune. Where would it leave the lad and me if you decided to marry? I will not have some man I’ve never met in a position of influence over my nephew.”

Did he expect her to be flattered that he’d called her handsome? Hard as Artemis tried to dismiss the compliment, she could not. He’d tossed it off in such a blunt, careless way, as he might have declared the sky was blue or the grass green. For the third time in less than an hour, Artemis felt the blood rise in her cheeks.

“I am nine-and-twenty years old,” she replied, as much to remind herself as to inform him. “I have long been on the shelf. Even if some other gentleman were shortsighted enough to fancy me handsome, marriage holds no attraction for me. My nephew…our nephew is the only gentleman with whom I wish to share a home. Unless…”

The maddest idea possessed her, born of desperation in the face of Hadrian Northmore’s frustrating resistance. “Unless you were prepared to marry me…entirely as a matter of convenience, of course.”

For once the man looked lost for words. Artemis congratulated herself on that small victory. She hoped the threat of having to wed her would make the alternative, of merely employing her, more attractive.

Before he could recover his voice, she rattled on with counterfeit eagerness, “Such an arrangement would answer all your objections, would it not? I would be a perfectly respectable married woman with a husband working abroad. No one would raise an eyebrow over my living arrangements. And you would not have to worry that I might marry anyone else in your absence. Since neither of us is inclined to wed in future, it would create no encumbrance.”

As she spoke, Mr. Northmore’s dazed stare tensed into a scowl of profound concentration. Or perhaps it betrayed his deep aversion to the idea of marrying her.

Given their vast differences and mutual bitterness, that was quite natural and all to the good, Artemis told herself, disregarding a foolish pang of humiliation. She did not want to marry him either, not even as a pure formality. The greater his distaste, the more anxious he would be to accept a less drastic alternative.

Hadrian Northmore sprang from his seat and began to pace in front of the hearth, one hand tucked behind his back while he rubbed his chin with the other.

“You know, that may not be as daft a scheme as it sounded at first.” His words stumbled out in a disjointed mutter, as if he were trying to persuade himself.

Good heavens! He wasn’t actually considering it, was he? For the first time in her life she’d acted on an impulse and look where it had landed her.

“You are too polite, sir.” Artemis endeavored to undo the damage. “It is a ridiculous idea. I see that now. Let us think no more of it, I beg you.”

He seemed too lost in his own thoughts to heed her. “I could adopt the lad as my heir. If we married, you and he would both bear the Northmore name. By the time he is old enough for school, the scandal of his birth may be forgotten and people might assume he is our son.”

“Perhaps so, but—”

“Say no more, Lady Artemis. You have persuaded me.” Hadrian Northmore strode toward her. Seizing her by the arms, he raised her to her feet as if she weighed no more than a feather. “For the sake of our nephew, you must marry me!”