Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Louis strode into Warwick Manor, feeling as weary as he had ever felt in his life. He had just spent two days at Hillsworth House, trying to woo Hetty. But as soon as he felt that he was making some headway – that he was breaking down the barrier between them, that she had erected – she would grow wary and close down, leaving him bereft.

He walked into his study, pouring himself a stiff whisky, thinking about it. Any other man would walk away, give up, admit defeat. His jaw clenched. He couldn't do it. He couldn't walk away from her, no matter how much she tried to push him away.

As he sipped his whisky, he contemplated her. She had thawed slightly towards him in the six weeks since he had been visiting Hillsworth House, but it was infinitesimal. It was as if she froze the moment that she realised she was enjoying herself or became lost in the moment. He had seen it on his first visit when they had shared a close moment, when the swing had broken, and it had been happening ever since.

He sighed, downing the drink in one gulp. No, he couldn't walk away from her. Because the truth of it was, he was more in love with her now than he had ever been.

Spending time with her had only deepened the way that he felt about her. She was not only the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld but clever and witty, as well. They shared interests in many things, even if she almost killed herself trying to stifle her response in their conversations. She was also tender-hearted.

She was simply everything that he had ever desired in a woman.

He refilled his glass, sitting down in an armchair. He had taken the documents, lodging her application for a divorce, to the Ecclesiastical court himself. But he had heard nothing since. Even as a peer of the realm, taking an interest, it was not a sure-fire thing that it would even proceed to court. There might be a letter, any day, saying that they would not even consider it.

He sipped the drink, feeling low about the chances. The law was always in favour of the man. That was how it was set up. Just because Frank Blackmore had blatantly deserted her, did not mean that the court would think it enough reason to consider divorce.

Even if the man was openly living with another woman, it still might not be enough. The court had a very broad-minded attitude towards the infidelity of men. They were rather less forgiving if it was proved that a woman had been unfaithful.

He grimaced. Hetty didn't know why her husband had deserted her. He had only told her he had been having cold feet in the months leading up to the wedding and could not commit to the marriage. The man had planned it, though. He had sold their house a week before the wedding. He had intended to desert her.

Rage built up in his chest, thinking about the cad, and what he had done to her. How he had devastated her. Hetty was like a wounded bird, desperately trying to hide her pain, closing up whenever anybody tried to get close.

At first, he had assumed that she must have been in love with him, which had been hard enough to deal with. But she had told him, just the other day, that it had never been a love match. Frank Blackmore had not been in love with her, and she had not been in love with him.

She had also told him that she didn't believe in love.

It had killed him to hear her utter those words so calmly. He wanted to tell her how he felt about her so much. But he knew that it was too soon. If he told her now, she would take fright. She wouldn't believe it, nor would she accept it. Her father had already taken him aside saying that she had wanted to join a convent, such was her desire to escape the world and her pain.

He couldn't imagine her as a nun. What a waste of a woman.

His loins stirred. A woman like that was made to be touched by a man. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining what it would be like to slowly undress her, to see the lines of her body. This fantasy had been tantalising him since the very first moment he had walked into the drawing room at Hillsworth House, and saw her again, after all these years.

He knew that she was attracted to him, although she tried very hard to hide it. It was there, in the sudden dilation of her pupils when they accidentally brushed against each other. It was there, in the way she trembled when he was close to her. He longed to kiss her, to claim those soft, full lips for his own, but he had not dared yet. The last thing he wanted to do was panic her, making her retreat into her shell, any further.

He downed the rest of the whisky. He was so eager for her, to make her his own, that he was almost on a trigger point of frustration. But he knew that the only thing that was going to win the day for him was patience. He had to wait for her to open her heart and for word from the court, as well.

He stared into his empty glass, morose, for a moment. Even if he could get her to open her heart to him, they might never have the chance to marry. He knew by now that Hetty was a fiercely moral woman. There would be no chance, at all, that she would consider any arrangement with him that was not a legal marriage. She would not consent to become his mistress. Nor would he ever put her in that position.

If the application for a divorce were not successful, then all would be lost.

There was a soft knock on the study door. He roused himself, placing the glass on the side table. "Come in."

The door opened. Benjamin was standing there, holding the hand of his nanny, Mrs Friel. His boy. His golden curls shone like a halo around his head, and his green eyes, exactly the same colour as his own, were bright.

"Papa," he said, suddenly letting go of the woman's hand and running towards him.

"How is my boy?" he cried, scooping him up and hugging him fiercely. "Have you been good for Mrs Friel, while I have been gone?"

The boy nodded solemnly, suddenly absorbed in the buttons of his jacket, twisting them around with his chubby fingers.

"I apologise for the disturbance, Your Grace," said Mrs Friel. "But the little one saw you arrive from the nursery window, and he was ever so keen to come and see you."

"It is no disturbance." Louis smiled, kissing the top of his son's head. "I was just about to come up to the nursery, anyway." He paused, staring at the older woman. "How has he been?"

"Very well, Your Grace," said the nanny, smiling calmly. "He had a slight sniffle the day before yesterday, but he is as right as rain now. We have been going on long walks around the estate. He is very eager to go to the stables and pet the horses."

"That's my boy," said Louis, gazing at his son. "You will be a fine horseman, just like Papa, one day. But you must be very careful around the horses now, Benjamin. You are not old enough to begin riding lessons, quite yet."

The boy nodded again, staring at him intently. "Papa stay home?"

Louis's heart contracted. "I always come home, do I not, Ben? But Papa is a busy man and often must be away. It is just the way of it."

He shifted, a little guiltily, in his chair. If he had his way, he would be in constant residence at Warwick Manor, spending time with his son. But he had to keep going back to Hillsworth House, at the moment. If he didn't keep trying with Hetty, he would never win her heart.

She was a bit suspicious about why he abruptly left her home the way that he did. He hadn't even realised that his eagerness to see his son was so apparent when he left her. When she had questioned him about his business the other day, it had been on the tip of his tongue to tell her about Benjamin. But something had stopped him, yet again.

He sincerely had no idea how she would take the news that he had an illegitimate child, who he was committed to raising. A small voice in his head insisted that the longer he delayed in telling her, the worse it might become. But he would always brush it aside, telling himself that he was just waiting for the right moment. The moment when he had won her trust enough that she would accept the news.

He stirred uneasily again. Hetty was a deeply moral woman. She had been seriously considering joining a nunnery. She might not be understanding, at all, about the fact he had fathered a bastard. Nor that he was raising the child. Would she be so conventional that she would not be able to tolerate it, at all?

He gazed at his son, feeling a fierce love sweep over him. He was not ashamed of Benjamin. The circumstances of his birth were not his fault. He was an innocent in all of it. He hadn't asked for any of it. His mother had abandoned him. It was his moral duty to look after the boy, even if it went against the dictates of society.

But not everyone thought the same way as he did. And Hetty might just be one of them.

***

That night, in the nursery, he read a bedtime story to Benjamin, sitting in the rocking chair, next to the window. The little fellow was asleep, snuggled into his chest, with his mouth open, before Louis had even finished the story.

Louis closed the book, gazing at his son. He was still a baby, even though he could walk and talk, now. His face was still chubby. Gently, he traced a finger down the line of Ben's face. The boy stirred but did not wake.

A fierce wave of protectiveness swept over him. How could Rachel have walked away from him? She had given birth to him. She had carried him, within her own body, for months, feeling him grow, and kick, and take on form. And yet, she had never had that maternal instinct with him, right from the moment of his birth. Even during the months of her confinement, she had never expressed excitement at the thought of meeting her baby. She had been detached, even then.

He vividly remembered a time when he had visited the house on his estate where they had been living just after Ben's birth. The wet nurse was on a break, and Rachel was alone with their son.

He heard the baby's howling before he even entered the house. He had rushed in, wondering what was happening. The boy had been in his crib, crying desperately, small hands waving in the air in his distress. While Rachel was standing at a window, looking out, not even acknowledging the baby's cries in any way. He had picked up the baby, soothing him, holding him close. That had been the first warning for him that she was not attached to Ben in the way that she should have been.

Gently, carefully, he stood up, clutching the sleeping boy, so as not to wake him. When he laid Ben in his small bed, pulling the blankets up, the boy opened his eyes for just a moment.

"Papa," he mumbled before promptly falling back to sleep again.

Louis's heart clenched. No, he would never regret that this beautiful boy had come into his life. He was just so very sorry that he couldn't legitimise him. That Ben would always be considered a bastard to the world at large.

And yet, the fact that Rachel had abandoned the boy meant that he was now free to pursue Hetty. If Rachel had stayed, he did not doubt that he would be married to her now. It had always been his intention to wed her once he was financially secure enough to do so. He would have sacrificed everything, so that his son could be legitimate.

A cold shiver ran through him at the thought of being married to Rachel. It would not have been a happy union. He had not loved her, but more than that, Rachel was a cold woman, in her heart of hearts. Nor had they ever had anything in common.

He remembered their stilted conversations, during the months of her confinement, and after Ben's birth. They had no shared interests, nothing to connect them. A brief moment of passion was the only thing that had ever tied them together.

He straightened, thinking about Hetty. It was completely different with her. Their connection was obvious to him, even if she was still fighting it. It wasn't just about physical desire. There was a lot more to it than that.

He sighed deeply. If he had pursued her after they had first met, they might be happily married now. It would have saved them both a world of pain. And yet, he could not wish it. For if they had married back then, and he had never met Rachel, then Ben would never have existed.

He sighed again. It was a conundrum. But he needed to stop looking back. The present was what mattered now. He had been given a second chance with her, and he was determined not to blow it. Even if he had to have the patience of a saint.

His resolve was strengthening again. He would win her heart. And they would procure the divorce for her. He had to believe that there was light at the end of this tunnel, or else, what had it all been for?