Chapter 4

Four

" S ir, you have a visitor," Winfield, Nathaniel's butler, announced from the door of the library.

Nathaniel waved his hand. "I am not at home."

"It is a lady, sir." Winfield's face flushed at his insolence. "A right fine one, not the usual sort. She's the?—"

"I don't give a damn who she is…" Nathaniel's eyes narrowed as his voice faded away. He wasn't friendly with many ladies. Of course, he was acquainted with half the ton or more, but the ones he knew well enough for them to seek him out—those were far between. "What is her name, Winfield?"

"Lady Celia Kendal, my lord. The Duke of Selkirk's sister," the butler said. "And she is alone," he added.

Nathaniel experienced a moment of panic, his heart pounding. He couldn't imagine what would bring the duke's sister to his home, but he harbored no doubt that if her visit were discovered, the duke would murder him.

Still, he could not turn her away. Not when she had risked her reputation to call on him.

Nathaniel drug in a breath, then said, "Show her in." He stared past Winfield at the hallway beyond the library. "Have Mrs. Porter come as chaperone." Nathaniel supposed his housekeeper would be as good a chaperone as any.

Leastwise on such short notice.

Clearly, Winfield agreed, for the insolent butler bowed, then backed from the room.

Nathaniel rose and went to the sideboard to pour a whisky. Whatever the lady wanted, he was confident he would need fortification to hear it. He brought the tumbler to his lips and took a long drink, then moved back to the chair he'd vacated.

Before he could bring the tumbler back to his lips, Lady Celia Kendal strode into his library, with Winfield trailing behind her. At least he assumed it was her. The lady was invisible beneath her oversized cloak. Nathaniel aimed his gaze to where her face should be and narrowed his eyes. "Good God! You look like the grim reaper in that monstrosity."

The lady ignored him and continued to stroll toward him.

Nathaniel looked to Winfield and said, "Take that hideous cloak and hold it until we have finished."

"No," Lady Celia said and wrapped her fingers around the clasp. "My being here is most improper. I prefer to keep my identity concealed."

"My butler is a master of discretion. A good thing as he already knows your name." Nathaniel nodded to the housekeeper, who had just ambled into the library. "And Mrs. Porter is here as chaperone."

"What I have to say will take but a moment and is best said in private, my lord." She turned her head, seeming to look around the room, then nodded to a far corner.

Nathaniel followed her across the parquet floor and onto the Aubusson rug before she came to a stop near the corner shelves. "Forgive me for intruding, but this is of the utmost importance."

He attempted to pay her mind, but all he could see was the reaper. Finding it impossible to focus on her words, he chuckled. "I cannot take you seriously while you are drowning in that poor excuse for a cloak."

She huffed, then pushed the hood back to reveal her face. "Very well. Now listen."

Nathaniel grinned. "You have my attention."

She peered for a heartbeat, then her expression turned serious. "You must call on Lady Cordelia."

Her words were like a punch to the gut. Nathaniel swallowed, his throat tightening. Of all the things she could have said, he never would have expected Cordelia's name to leave her mouth. "Why?" He spoke through clenched teeth.

"I would rather not say."

He took hold of Lady Celia's arm and leaned closer. "You had better say."

She pressed her lips together and stared defiantly. "I would rather not betray her trust and am sure if you go to her, she will tell you. Allow her the opportunity."

"Damn it, woman. Tell me what this is about, or I swear I will march you right back to your brother."

"You should hear it from her."

Nathaniel's anger reached a new height. "She is not here. You are."

Lady Celia searched his gaze, then said, "I am sure she would have told you. It's only that she is frightened and convinced you would not wish to know…" Lady Celia averted her gaze, her voice trailing off.

Nathaniel fought the urge to shake her as he asked, "What wouldn't I wish to know."

Lady Celia's gaze returned to his, and she said in a small voice, "She is with child."

For a moment, Nathaniel could do nothing. He could not move or speak. He could scarcely make sense of his thoughts. Then clarity struck, the meaning of her words piercing him. Cordelia was carrying his child.

He released Lady Celia's arm and turned toward his butler. "Have my horse brought round at once." Nathaniel crossed the room in long strides, not pausing to see what Lady Celia did. His only thought was getting to Cordelia at once.

She would answer to him. And she would marry him.

This time, he would not be denied.

Nathaniel had spent weeks trying to get Cordelia off his mind. Even now, nearly two months later, the memory of her in his arms hounded him. He had never experienced such a bond with any other woman. It had left him longing for her—wanting her, and not just in his bed.

Despite his feelings, he had left her alone. Honored her wishes. Nathaniel had done his best to forget what they shared and chase away her memory.

Now, this?

Anger pulsed through him, heating his blood and causing his heart to pound a furious rhythm. He swung into his saddle and set the horse into a gallop.

How could she hide her condition from him? How could she attempt to take his child from him? What the devil made her think she could get away with it?

The thought sent a fresh wave of fury through him, for if Lady Celia had not come to him, Cordelia might well have succeeded. And Nathaniel would have been none the wiser. The very idea turned his stomach.

Worst of all, he never would have thought her capable of such a cold-hearted scheme. Nathaniel proposed to her—multiple times—Not only out of honor but more so because he believed they shared a connection. He could imagine her at his side, and he would have been pleased to take her to wife.

But now… Now he knew the truth. Cordelia was a cold-hearted strumpet. She'd used him, then cast him aside, and now she wished to steal his child.

Oh, he would marry her, but there would be little pleasure in it. Instead of getting the sweet, adventurous wife he'd imagined her to be, Nathaniel was getting the devil in skirts.

He turned his mount up the drive leading to Cordelia's family home but did not bother to slow the horse.

A cloud of dust followed in his wake, then settled around him as he leaped from the saddle and tossed the reins at a footman.

"See that he gets a drink," Nathaniel called out over his shoulder as he mounted the stone steps leading to the carved mahogany door.

"Right away, sir," the footman said.

To Nathaniel's surprise, the butler opened the door before he reached it.

"My lord," the butler greeted with a bow.

Nathaniel offered a tight smile as he held out his card. "Lady Cordelia, if you please," he said, his tone commanding.

"I'm afraid the lady is not home to callers, sir."

Nathaniel's loose grip on control slipped away, and he sneered at the butler. "Tell her it is Lord Wolverton, and kindly have someone show me to the receiving room." Nathaniel shoved his hat and gloves toward the butler. "If she refuses to see me, I'll have an audience with her father, Lord Sheffield."

When the butler took too long to react, Nathaniel started across the entry hall. He would not be refused the answers he'd come for. Neither would he be swayed from taking Cordelia to wife. He would raise his child.

"My lord," a footman hurried to Nathaniel, "right this way."

Nathaniel followed the footman to a comfortable receiving room where a bright fire stirred in the hearth and the drapes were pulled aside, allowing light to flood the room. Under other circumstances, he might find comfort in the well-appointed space.

Today, he was wound tight and doubted anything would relax him. He strode to one of the tall windows and leaned his shoulder against the frame, not sure what he ought to be prepared for—Cordelia or the Marquess.

He did not have to wait long to discover the answer, as Cordelia soon came through the door. Her gaze met his, and she stared daggers. Not that it bothered him. In fact, Nathaniel was sure his own peering gaze conveyed the anger burning within him.

She strolled several paces into the receiving room, then stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. Once the door clicked shut, she said, "How many times must I refuse you? Why do you continue to call?"

Nathaniel moved closer until all that separated them was a high table. He held her piercing gaze and said, "I know your secret."

Cordelia blanched, her eyes rounding for a fraction of a second before she wiped all emotion from her expression. "Very well," she said, moving her hands to her hips and notching her chin. "It changes nothing."

Nathaniel gripped the table as he struggled to control his barely contained anger. "It changes everything," he said through clenched teeth.

She shook her head. "No, it does not. You never asked for any of this. I never asked for you to do the honorable thing. We are not well suited." She gave a weak smile. "In fact, I would say we are ill-fated, and I want none of it."

Nathaniel glared at her. And for the first time in his life, he had the overwhelming urge to beat a woman. "That child," he moved his gaze to her midsection, "is mine. There is nothing you can do to change that. Nor do you get to decide whether I get to be a father to my offspring. The baby is my responsibility."

Cordelia blew out a frustrated breath. She took a step closer before she said, "I am setting you free. Take it for the gift it is, and trust that I will care for the child. I am soon to reach my majority, and when I do, I will have access to more than enough funds to support us."

Nathaniel tightened his grip on the table, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. "And where do you intend to go? Neither you nor our babe will be accepted anywhere in England. Hell, a single mother will be met with scorn and hardship no matter where she goes. Is that what you want?"

Somehow he doubted reasoning with her would get him any further than arguing was, but he had to try.

Cordelia waved a nonchalant hand. "After I get my funds, I will go to France or Scotland and live as a widow."

"And until then?" Nathaniel asked, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

"It is kind of you to worry." She drew closer. "But it really is unnecessary. I will go to my cousin's house in the Yorkshire countryside. It will be easy to conceal my condition there."

He lowered his head and growled, "Try it."

Cordelia pivoted and strode for the door.

Nathaniel hurried to block her path. "You have no choice. Try to refuse me and see what happens."