Chapter Twenty-Five

“B loody hell, Lawrence—you need to stop this.”

Lawrence glanced across the desk at his friend. There was no need to ask what Ned meant by this . While they indulged in a bottle of ale in his study, the source of this slept downstairs in the parlor.

“Stop what?” Lawrence asked.

Ned rolled his eyes. “You’re a scoundrel, but I never took you for a simpleton. You know what I’m talking about.”

“She’s better off than—”

“No!” Ned slammed his bottle on the desk. “Don’t use that excuse! You think that because she was at risk of a life of abuse at the hands of some duke, that gives you the right to abuse her?”

“It’s hardly abuse.”

Ned’s eyes flashed with fury. “I almost caught you rutting her in the garden!”

“I stopped myself.”

“No matter—she’s already ruined.”

“Nobody need know.”

“Don’t be a child!” Ned scoffed. “You think folk won’t make up their own minds about what she’s been up to? You know what young Tommie’s mother has to deal with—a respectable widow, but just because she earns a bit teaching some of the farm laborers to read, the wagging tongues in the village say that she runs a brothel. Them that gossip in High Society won’t be any better.” He shook his head. “I knew I should have stopped you when I first realized what you were doing. I bloody knew it !”

“Then why don’t you put a stop to it now?”

“Because it’d destroy her—and I’m not doin’ your dirty work. You have to tell her before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late for me.

Lawrence couldn’t imagine not having her in his life. The children had never been cleaner. Jonathan, while still timid, seemed happier. William, though still full of mischief, at least did what he was told—most of the time. As for Roberta—for the first time in months she gave more than monosyllabic answers when he asked her a question. And though Bella had taken to putting all sorts of nonsensical ideas into her head, such as why women should have the same opportunities in life as men, he had to admit that his daughter—in fact, all his children—were a joy to be around.

As for her …

Lady Arabella Ponsford had a vile temper. But Bella Baxter…

Bella had a temper, but rather than coming from a meanness of the soul, it came from a desire for justice—justice for her, justice for women, and justice for his children. Many said that the fiercest creature in the world was a female protecting her young. The children might not be Bella’s, but she protected them with a ferocity that warmed his heart.

Which only made his deception worse. Bella Baxter was the better person—but she didn’t exist. She was an imposter—as if Lady Arabella Ponsford had been killed and replaced by another.

And he’d been the one to kill her.

He set his ale aside. Fuck —it must be strong. An excess of liquor always did elicit uncomfortable truths.

Or had his conscience finally awoken?

Either way, he’d made an almighty mistake.

“Bella’s happy here,” he said.

“A lame excuse,” Ned replied. “How can she be happy with her lot when she didn’t choose it? She’s uttered no vows of obedience, no pledge to serve you.”

“Neither does any servant, Ned. Do you think them that had to obey Lady Arabella’s orders were willing? No—they had no other choice.”

“But she has a choice,” Ned said. “Like it or not, she’s different to the likes of us. You can argue about the fairness of that till your cock drops off, but it’s not for us to change the world, or to run about in mobs cutting off the heads of folk that have more than us out of resentment.”

“That’s a big leap from a man wanting justice to a revolutionary.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

“So, I should send her back to that worthless lecher who’ll treat her as nothing more than a possession?”

“How does that differ to the way you’re treating her?” Ned asked. “She’s a possession—living in a cottage rather than a mansion. Or perhaps you consider yourself the better man because you know what you’re doing to her is wrong.”

“I do know it’s wrong, Ned,” Lawrence said. “I’ve struggled to reconcile myself with my conscience these past weeks.”

“Which makes you worse than the duke,” Ned said coldly. “He’s been brought up to expect to have ownership over others. He’s like the fox—an animal that kills livestock because it knows no better. But you ”—he jabbed his finger at Lawrence’s chest—“you’re like a murderer—you know it’s wrong, yet still you do it.”

Lawrence leaped from his seat, curled his hand into a fist, and rammed it into Ned’s chest.

“I’m not a murderer!” he cried. “She’s safer with me than she ever could be with that man. I won’t send her back to him—he’ll never care for her, much less love her! Whereas I…”

He trailed off.

Bloody hell —where had that come from?

Ned sat back, rubbing his chest.

“ Fuck , that hurt. I don’t know why you won’t take part in the bouts at the Oak. You’d make a packet.”

“I’m a gardener, not a knucklehead.”

“And you’re a fool who’s waded into water too deep for him.”

“What do you mean?”

Ned frowned. “Why did you say the duke wouldn’t love her?”

“Because their sort don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Whereas you do?” The anger in Ned’s eyes disappeared. “Bloody hell, man—what have you got yourself into?” He shook his head. “I should have known—I’ve seen how you look at her. Even my Sophie’s remarked on it.”

“Sophie?”

“My niece is a bright girl,” Ned said. “And seein’ as nobody in the village will have much to do with Lady—with Bella, she’s taken a liking to her. Always a friend of the misfit, is my Sophie—the first to take pity on a bird with a broken wing.”

“And what does she say?” Lawrence asked.

“Rather a lot about you. Even more about her.”

“Such as?”

“She says you work her too hard, and that while Bella knows little about running a home, she tries harder than most, despite her fears.”

Lawrence leaned forward. “What fears?”

“She’s terrified of fire,” Ned said. “The day after you brought her here, when my Sophie came round to help, she near screamed the place down when she opened up the range to stoke the fire. But you must know that, seein’ as she’s laid fires and cooked for you every day since.”

Yes, she had. She’d undertaken every chore he’d written out for her. Not always uncomplainingly, but she’d done them: washing his clothes, sweeping the floors, putting food on the table—granted, not always the most appetizing of dishes, but at least she’d tried.

As for the fires, he’d often seen her kneeling beside the fireplace, tending to the fire, her eyes illuminated in the orange glow of the flames with what looked like wonder.

But perhaps it was terror.

His chest tightened at the merest thought of her being afraid. Why hadn’t she told him?

Because you’re the last person she can turn to. You’re the cause of her misery.

“Oh, Bella…”

Ned let out a mirthless laugh. “You’ve got it bad. Perhaps that’s your retribution for having abducted her—guided by your cock rather than any sense of justice.”

“I’ve not touched her, Ned.”

“Not for want of lust. I bet you fist yourself to sleep every night with her name on your lips. Not that I blame you. She’s comely enough—but not for the likes of us.”

Lawrence opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. There was little point in lying. Many a night he’d woken, his cock hard and ready at the thought of her—stroking himself until he spent into his hand, crying her name. Then he’d mopped himself up, overcome with shame and the fear that she’d ask why his sheets were stained.

But she never asked. In her innocence, she’d have no idea of his depraved activities—or how greatly he wanted to spend inside her.

He was a beast—an uncouth, vile beast who lusted after the lady he’d taken captive.

But when he’d held her in his arms not one hour ago, their laughter echoing around the garden, he’d finally admitted to something other than lust.

Love.

Ned let out a chuckle. “I might have something—or someone—to solve your problem. Remember Millie?”

“Millie?” Lawrence asked, feigning nonchalance. There was no forgetting Millie, with her skills at bringing a man to pleasure.

“You know full well who I mean,” Ned said. “She’s staying at the Oak for a few days—on her way to visit her sister. She asked after you.”

“Did she?”

“Aye—even while she was giving me a little… comfort , she asked whether you’d be visitin’ her. She’s very discreet, is Millie, and she wouldn’t charge an old friend.”

Lawrence shook his head. He’d long ago lost his appetite for any woman other than Bella.

He should have realized that way back—even when she was Lady Arabella, triumphant from having destroyed his livelihood, he’d fallen under her thrall the moment he kissed her.

“I can’t, Ned,” he said. “But I should speak to Millie—I wouldn’t want her recognizing Bella. And I wouldn’t want Bella seeing us—I can’t have her upset.”

“Bloody hell,” Ned sighed. “You have got it bad. Come to the Oak tomorrow—I’ll take you to Millie.”

“Thank you,” Lawrence said. “You’re a good friend—better than I deserve.”

“Oh, I think you’re getting what you deserve, judgin’ by that lovesick expression on your face,” Ned replied. “You were always one to say that a sinner reaps their rewards eventually. Perhaps you’re beginning to understand that lesson yourself.”