Chapter 1

One

LONDON, A WINTER'S DAY

" I t is certain?" The tall man paced in consternation, clenching his jaw tightly as he glared out the window at the cold, grey January day below.

From her position on the scarlet velvet chaise longue, the woman nodded. In a meek voice, she said, "Yes. I-I have felt it quicken."

"Lately?"

She nodded, but he did not believe her. He knew she had been trying to reach him, but he had been occupied. Pemberley, any estate really, was a busy place in the autumn—harvests, harvest balls, shooting parties, house parties. There had been scarcely a moment to do anything until the lure of the Festive Season in London drew him thither.

He closed his eyes for a moment, a pulse of regret, anger, and disgust for his actions tearing through him. Turning, he looked back at her, realising he must acknowledge her distress in this as well.

Sitting next to her, he took her hand. "It will be well. I will see to it that you will want for nothing. You have my word on that."

She offered him a sad smile. "You are nothing if not mindful to your duty."

He sighed, unable to feel anything but the most severe sort of self-reproach to have found himself in such a position. He ran his hands through his dark, curly hair. "I shall speak to my solicitor immediately. We shall make provisions for you and for…the child. You must understand, of course, I cannot recognise it as my heir, should a boy be born. You knew that, I am sure."

The woman nodded, and he searched her countenance, seeing only relief in her eyes. That relieved him as well. He had been worried for a moment that a demand for marriage might follow.

Almost as though she read his thoughts, she said, "I understand that men of your station do not marry their mistresses. And you have been, already, so very good to me. I have my apartments here, my housekeeper. With a small allowance, I daresay I might go along very well for some time."

"Yes, the allowance." He nodded pensively. He would keep her in good stead, but he did not doubt that as soon as she was able, she would be hanging on some other man's arm. What was his obligation then? He would not wish the child to suffer but neither would he support another man's sidepiece.

Softly, she asked, "Will I continue to see you?"

He stood and looked at her. In many ways, she reminded him of Elizabeth, with the same sort of light, pleasing figure and eyes that could enchant a man right out of his wits. Thinking of Elizabeth brought a pang to his conscience, and he determinedly pushed thoughts of her aside.

He cleared his throat. "In fact, I came here today to speak to you of a different matter of the heart."

"Oh?"

"Before I knew this, I had planned to end our arrangement. I—it seems I have fallen in love."

She raised her brows, looking dubious for a moment, but quickly hid it. "You will marry, then?"

"No. I mean, yes, eventually but…now with this matter to be dealt with…" He shook his head. One step at a time.

"It matters not to me if you marry." She shrugged, very slightly. "Marriage is hardly an impediment in most cases."

When a man fell in love, he had no wish for other women, but perhaps she did not understand that. She likely knew of very few men who had love, or even respect, for their wives.

"Perhaps not," he agreed. "However, I do not fool myself. The lady would not tolerate it."

He went to where she sat, leant over, and kissed her on the cheek. "In any case, it will not affect you. You may consider yourself in my protection until your lying-in. I could not abandon you now."

"Son, I wonder what troubles you so?"

His mother entered his bedchamber, no doubt appalled by the picture he presented. He was listless, a book in his hand but not reading, staring out onto a ghastly day with spitting sleet and mud everywhere. February had been unusually warm but no less grey for it.

His mother gave him a smile and took a seat across from him, though she had not been invited. Even though he was now well above the age of his majority, he would never dream of asking her to leave, and she knew it.

Darcy mustered the energy sufficient for a smile. "Do I seem troubled, Mother? I am well, I assure you."

"You are not well," she insisted firmly. "What are your cares? Pray tell me. Perhaps I may be of help."

He shook his head. "I have reached the age where my mistakes will haunt me. You cannot help me in this. I am absolutely certain of that."

His mother looked at him, her brow knit with maternal dismay. He had not been eating well, he knew that, and had been hidden away in his bedchamber for days. She was rightly alarmed by him.

"Dearest, I only wish to try," she pressed. "Are you sure there is not some way I might be of use to you?"

Well, my dear Mama, my mistress is with child, the true love of my life has refused the offer of my hand in marriage, and I am overcome by the notion that my entire life has rolled right off the edge into an abyss from which I shall never recover.

Naturally, he could not speak to his mother of his problems with Miss Gage, but a partial confession might elicit some sympathy and prevent her from asking more questions.

He leant towards her. "I have made an offer of marriage to Miss Elizabeth Parham, and she has refused me."

"Yes, I had heard," she confirmed gently.

He supposed he ought to have known that she would know. He had courted Miss Parham for some months, and by all indications, she returned his regard. An announcement was expected by nearly all who knew them.

"She is a silly girl," his mother pronounced. "Did she say why? She has led you on a merry jig these last months!"

Disgust of himself smote him. Poor Elizabeth should not have to be insulted for his actions, even though he knew it appeared she was capricious. "I can say no more but that the refusal is well-deserved. Miss Parham is blameless in the matter."

"I cannot see how that might be! Foolish, foolish girl! Well, I shall assure you of one thing: when Mrs Parham hears what her daughter has done, a wholly different scene will arise. Just wait and see!"

"No." Her son held up his hand. "It is done. Just let it be." At once, he felt an urgent need to escape and standing, pulled his watch from his pocket. "Will you excuse me, Mother? I believe I must go. I am meeting Saye at the club today."

His mother nodded and rose. She placed one delicate hand on his arm. "Saye is such a level-headed young man. Perhaps you ought to confide in him. He may have some excellent advice for you that I, in the older generation, do not."

For a moment, he closed his eyes. The notion of telling his oldest and dearest friend—who had an admitted bent towards being priggish—about mistress problems!

Saye would likely express something akin to, ‘Well, when you dance with the devil, more often than not your shoes get burnt'. But his mother was correct. Saye might know of some way to fix this tangle or at least to relieve the ache in his heart and head.

"An excellent suggestion, madam," he said, mustering a smile.