Chapter 25

Tessa swallowed back a surge of pride.

This was what she and Gabriel had been working toward all these years—first in scraping by with nothing but their own wits, then by using their wits to fleece the rich.

This…So Saskia and Viveca would have the opportunity to choose their path in life—to have the confidence and financial backing to pursue their interests and talents.

The same knowledge and pride shone in Gabriel's eyes when they flashed to meet hers, which were stinging with unshed tears.

"We do, however…," began Saskia.

"Have one teensy request to make of you, sister," finished Viveca.

Tessa found two pairs of inquisitive blue eyes trained on her. "Yes?" she asked, wary.

She knew that look—her sisters wanted something.

And if their past track record predicted future, they would have it.

"The Sloane Street townhouse…," began Viveca.

"We would like it for our use," finished Saskia.

"Please," added Viveca with her sweetest smile, the one that never failed to melt Tessa into a puddle.

The next instant, Tessa's brow was crinkling as the import of their teensy request sank in. "You're asking me to leave my home?"

Her sisters didn't lack for audacity.

"Yes," said Saskia.

"We've talked it over, and," said Viveca, "Sloane Street is an ideal location for our library with its proximity to Hyde Park."

"And where would I go?" asked Tessa, aghast. Her sisters were seriously making plans to turf her out of her townhouse.

Saskia gave an indifferent shrug. "Gabriel's mansion?"

"St. James's Square is quite the fashionable address," said Viveca, as if she were an estate agent.

Tessa cut a glance over to find Gabriel and Celia making hot newlywed eyes at one another. "No."

She couldn't live in the same house with those two, even if it was a mansion possessed of separate wings. Gabriel and Celia were occupying their own private planet for two.

There was no room for her there.

"Oh, I know." Viveca snapped her fingers. "You can take that giant pile of gold you must have from The Archangel and purchase a fashionable townhouse in Mayfair."

"I don't care about fashionable townhouses in Mayfair," Tessa retorted in a tone that held a whiff of fractious toddler.

But her protest was weak, and she saw it was no use. She'd lost before this conversation even began. The knowing smirks presently being exchanged between her sisters only confirmed it.

She reckoned she would be turfed out before the month's end.

She met Julian's gaze. He'd been watching with a smile in his summer-blue eyes.

He reckoned it, too.

The meal progressed through the courses, and the conversation returned to Eloise and Mr. Lancaster's future nuptials. Tessa was delighted for Eloise, a woman she now considered a friend. Eloise and Lancaster possessed that rare mix of ease and tension that boded well for a couple.

Ease and tension…

Just last night, she'd experienced the same with Julian.

A glimpse of what could be…perhaps.

Supper concluded, the party adjourned to the conservatory that opened onto the back garden. The men and women didn't separate so the men could smoke cigars and have manly conversation without offending delicate, feminine ears. Tessa gravitated toward Julian in an ambling arc so as not to draw attention to her intention, while Mr. Lancaster led the conversation further into the business details of the circulating library. He knew a solicitor who was the best at setting up such ventures.

When she'd, at last, found a straight line to Julian, a throat cleared behind her. She turned to find Gabriel regarding her with an expectant look on his face. "Yes?" she asked, letting her irritation come through.

He lifted an unfazed eyebrow. "Why don't you join me on the terrace? I believe you and I could do with a chat."

Tessa inhaled an annoyed sigh and followed her brother outside. It wasn't a clear night, but then night skies in London rarely were. They turned their backs to the party and gazed out in parallel across the dark garden. This little chat could begin at one of a thousand different points, so she waited.

"Blaze Jagger," said Gabriel.

Tessa almost sagged with relief. She'd thought her brother had surely picked up on the tension that vibrated between her and Julian. She'd thought it a nearly tangible thing.

"He's making a great deal of noise in our circles."

"Aye," she said. "I've been learning more than I ever wanted to know about Blaze Jagger."

"Such as?"

"He's the bastard of a marquess."

Gabriel nodded. "Lydon."

Tessa's head whipped around. "You knew?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I had him investigated."

A snort borne of frustration at all the men in her life sounded from Tessa. "He's buying up Lydon's debt all over Town."

"Aye."

"Julian says he won't be a problem anymore."

With lifted brow, Gabriel turned and fully faced her. "Julian?"

Tessa didn't flinch. Instead, she stared her brother down. "That's his given name."

Gabriel might be married and a duke, but she was still the older sister. She wouldn't be teased by her little brother.

Neither would she be distracted from the topic at hand.

"Jagger's a lone wolf," she said.

"Apt description."

"And how does one stop a lone wolf?"

"We can't exactly shoot him. There are morals and laws and such."

"Bring him into the fold."

Suspicion flickered within Gabriel's eyes. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"I'm knocking around a few ideas."

"Don't act on any of them without speaking to me first."

Tessa gave a noncommittal shrug that she knew would fiddle on Gabriel's last nerve. "You're selling me your share in The Archangel, remember? Just an old married man settling your markers and getting out of the game, right?"

"Tessa—"

Now, a change of subject suited her. "Do you have an opinion on Ormonde?"

Though his given name had been entered into the conversational canon, she couldn't bring herself to speak it. To say it aloud—here and now…to Gabriel—would be akin to speaking an intimacy aloud.

"Have you had him investigated, too?"

Gabriel didn't smile at her attempt at levity. Instead, his head canted in that particular way he had when considering a matter of importance. "Should I?"

All pretense of levity between them fell away.

"No."

In quiet assessment of one another, they stood immobile. The casual observer could take them for adversaries in this moment.

It was Gabriel who relented first. "Ormonde was several years ahead of me at Eton. A lad who was and is well liked by all. He doesn't get himself into gambling debt that I know of."

"He doesn't."

"His father, however, was a legend in that department," continued Gabriel. "And what do you know of Ormonde?"

"A bit."

"More than a bit, perhaps," he said, testing.

"More than a bit," she confirmed.

"You'll want to be careful, sister."

"I'm not asking for permission or advice." The words didn't precisely snap, but they did hold an edge.

"And I can't give you either," said Gabriel, evenly. "But you must've gleaned something of his family by now."

"I have."

"A past like that leaves a mark on a person. It can define his entire existence. Examples of that sort shamble and gamble their way through The Archangel every night."

"That's not Julian." Tessa didn't like the defensive tone of her voice—but there was no help for it.

Gabriel let a calming expanse of silence tick past before he spoke again. "Such pasts can get in a man's blood."

Tessa scoffed. "I don't believe any of that blood nonsense."

Gabriel didn't shift position. "But, Tessa, he might."

The breath caught sharp in her lungs. The truth could have that effect on a person.

"All he's been taught and all he knows is that love brings pain."

Tessa shook her head. "That's the past. It doesn't have to be the future. Isn't that what you and I believe, Gabriel? Aren't the lives we fashioned for ourselves and our sisters examples of that?" She didn't know if she was pushing against Gabriel or against immutable laws of the universe, but she must. It was important that Gabriel—anyone—share this belief with her.

"Aye, they are," he said, as if he were soothing a feral cat.

"He's a good man, Gabriel. He's worth the effort."

"But does he know that?"

And there was her fear voiced aloud.

"Ah," came a feminine voice at their backs, "I'd wondered where you'd wandered off to."

Tessa turned to find Celia crossing the terrace and understood in an instant that Gabriel was already forgetting what they'd been discussing, his eyes only for his wife. When she drew near enough, Gabriel reached out and took Celia by the waist, pulling her into a loose embrace at his side that spoke of ease and familiarity.

A pang of envy arrowed through Tessa.

She wanted that with every cell of her being.

With Julian.

Celia held a hand to her forehead in a gesture that looked a mite too practiced. "My love, I find that my head has a little ache tonight."

"Shall we go home and cure it?"

Tessa was no squeamish miss, but she almost groaned. To hear Gabriel speak thusly, and with such hot fervency…well, she couldn't unhear it.

"Aye," said Celia, her fingers curling around his cravat.

Tessa cleared her throat to remind them of her presence. The looks they shot her held not the faintest hint of abashment.

Gabriel pushed away from the low terrace wall, one arm still around Celia's waist. "Sister," he said by way of farewell.

"Let's have tea soon," Celia tossed over her shoulder.

And that was Tessa left alone with her thoughts.

Her feet moved across terrace stones, down the short staircase, and onto the springy, close-cropped turf of the back garden, still summer night air holding a pleasing nip of cool.

The conversation with Gabriel pulled at her mind, refusing to let it settle. He'd only spoken her own anxieties regarding Julian aloud. As it did several times a day now, her hand moved across her lower stomach in a caress that was filled with no small amount of awe. At this very moment, a child lay curled inside her—a child, she found, she wanted very much.

But Julian…

As if her mind had the power to conjure him, he appeared on the terrace above, limned in light from the house at his back. When he'd walked into the drawing room earlier, the breath had caught in her chest. It was the sight of this too-handsome man dressed in evening blacks—but it was more, too.

It was the immediate possessive thought that he was her too-handsome man dressed in evening blacks.

Hers.

Until tonight, she'd never known herself to harbor a possessive bone in her body.

But she did.

When it came to him.

She stepped into the center of the lawn, where he would see her even in the dim light. He descended the stairs, and without a word, took her hand and led her beneath the canopy of an apple tree in summer bloom. Here, no one would be able to catch a casual glimpse of them from the house.

Here, it was only them.

Calloused fingers grazed across her jaw and cupped the nape of her neck, bringing her mouth to his. The kiss immediately took on a bright sense of urgency, for it came to her in a crushing instant—this kiss might need to last her a lifetime.

Her senses began to take in everything as if it were the last time—his cedarwood scent…the tensile strength of his arms…the hard length of his body against her, essential and demanding, leading her down a path she so badly wanted to follow.

She was tempted.

Oh, so tempted to give in to desire and put off the inevitable for yet one more night. After all, he'd come so far in these last weeks.

But was the distance reached enough to bridge all the damage done over the years?

Had he come far enough?

Her control and this opportunity were slipping, and the answer could no longer wait—to wait would only complicate matters…more than they already were.

It was when her back was against the tree and he was hiking up her skirts and her leg was instinctively wrapping around his waist that his mouth came away from hers, sliding to the sensitive skin below her ear. "Tessa," he murmured, "you're all I can think about. The way I feel about you…I think it must be more than lust."

The breath caught in her lungs.

They were adults.

They both knew what more than lust meant.

And she knew what she must do.

She must stop him before he spoke it aloud.

"Julian…"

"Yes?" The velvety gravel of his voice nearly undid all her intention.

She inhaled and tried again. "Julian." His name emerged firmer this time.

He pulled back a few inches and met her eye. He'd caught that firm note.

"We must talk."

"Must we?" the question a low, seductive rumble.

She swallowed, intention wavering, and nodded.

He took a step backward, and his body came away from hers. She suddenly felt too light without the grounding presence of him against her and remained slumped against the tree until her feet steadied beneath her. One side of his face was illuminated by remnants of light from the house, the other side cast in darkness—all of him inscrutable as he waited for her to explain.

"There is something I must tell you, and…and…" Oh, this was difficult…"And I think the only way to say it is simply to say it."

The air between them understood her words would change everything.

He waited, unmoving.

"I am with child."

And there it was—the change in the air as it moved around her words and attempted to understand and incorporate them into reality…A new reality that neither of them was prepared for.

One that offered no return to the life that came before.

There was only after.

He'd gone still. Like hers, his lungs would've forgotten how to function. The instant she wished she could read his features for his reaction, she experienced a weak relief she couldn't.

"You're certain?"

She supposed the question logical. Still, she couldn't help wishing he'd reacted some other way. That against everything she'd come to know and understand about this man, she'd thought—hoped—perhaps, he would.

"I am," she managed.

Time both stretched and compressed as he took in those words. "How long have you known?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"I've suspected for a week or so."

He turned that over in his mind. "Since before Clarissa's birthday?"

"Around then, yes."

A laugh carried on the night air, dry and humorless. "So, that's what all this has been about."

The words struck her at an odd angle. "What all this?"

"Making me fall in love with you."

And here it was…

Love, spoken aloud.

Like the child nestled within her, she'd been carrying that feeling inside her these last few weeks, too.

Love for this damaged man.

Love that she'd known couldn't go anywhere.

And, yet, she'd hoped.

A hope that faded with every beat of her heart.

"You've fallen in love with me?" she asked.

Either Julian didn't hear or didn't want to hear, for he pressed on. "That day at Nonsuch…the night at Vauxhall Gardens…They were all what? To secure a father for your child?"

Tessa's brow furrowed. "You are the father of my child."

Julian snorted. "You know what I'm speaking of."

"I can't say that I do," she said, wary.

"I would've thought better of you than a marriage trap."

Utter disbelief pulsed through Tessa, and her feet firmed beneath her. "Trap? You should listen to yourself, Julian. Yes, you are trapped. But not by me. You're trapped in your own mind, and no one can free you from that snare but yourself."

In the dissipating light, she saw his jaw clench and release.

"It's not of particular importance to me that you and I marry," she said with as much patience as she could muster. "Let's refresh your memory with a few facts about me." She held up a finger. "I'm a woman of independent means." A second finger joined the first. "And I'm very much accustomed to making my own way in the world. You have a choice, Julian. I'm not taking that away from you, but I thought you should know."

"Thought I should know?" he scoffed. "Don't you care if the child is a bastard?"

"There are ways to avoid such a fate for a child. Do you care?" This point needed to be pressed. Julian needed to hear it with his heart—not his fear. "You can allow yourself to feel."

"You know nothing of it."

"I know fear when I see it. Deep inside, you're still that scrawny lad full of fear, aren't you? Afraid that if you ever allowed yourself to feel, it would consume you whole."

He remained silent.

"Isn't fear preventing you from doing what you know deep down you have to do?"

"What is that?"

"Leave those wrong beliefs behind." A thought occurred to her. "Or…"

"Or?"

"Or are all those wrong beliefs and fears a comfort for you?"

"Leave it, Tessa," he warned. "I'm not one of your equations to be solved."

But she wasn't finished—far from it…"Your wrong thinking makes you safe. You never have to step beyond your fear and into the unknown. Your past causes you great pain, but that's known pain and safer than taking a risk on an uncharted future."

Before her, he stood, taking her words in, translating them through the damage the past had wrought in his mind.

And she was powerless to do a thing about it.

She could only speak the truth.

It was up to him to test its veracity for himself.

How she wanted to reach out and place her hand on him, bridge this distance between them.

But she couldn't.

She understood that.

There were two sides to every river and each side must do its equal work to support that bridge.

How very alone he appeared on his side.

"I know you're accustomed to being in the right, Tessa, but in this case you haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Enlighten me."

"When my father put a bullet in his brain, do you know what I felt?"

The bluntness of the words caused Tessa to flinch. She shook her head and braced herself.

"Relief," he said, his voice weary as if unloading a burden too long held. "Relief down to my bones. I could've melted to the floor with it."

"It would only be natural considering?—"

He held up a hand and stayed the words in her mouth. "Don't try to rationalize or justify it."

Tessa clamped her mouth shut.

"What sort of son feels that way, Tessa?" He didn't wait for her answer. "The wrong sort. But it taught me something about myself. I shouldn't be husband to any woman or father to any child, for all this time I've known what no one else has—that sort of defect is passed from father to son. It runs in the blood."

The words settled into the air, heavy and implacable, yet Tessa had more to say…"We are what we make of ourselves, Julian. The products of day upon day of living—some good, others bad. The blood flowing in our veins has nothing to do with who we are. Life is a tougher challenge than that. Life demands that we make something of ourselves—and there we find our freedom. We are free to make of ourselves who we are. Only you can set yourself free from who your father was and all his influences. Only you can fashion yourself into the man you are meant to be, Julian."

He blinked, incredulous. "With everything I've just told you, do you truly believe me to be a worthy father for this child?"

Tessa understood the sudden rush of emotion elicited by his question would find its way to her voice, but there was no help for it. "No, I can see you wouldn't be," she said, the awful certainty sinking in with each beat of her fractured heart. "But not for the reason you think." She swallowed. "My child—our child—won't go through life bearing the burden of believing he or she carries a stain on their soul. My child will have no father, rather than that sort of father."

With that, she moved past him.

Though each step expanded the crack in her heart, she went on.

I'm not one of your equations to be solved.

She'd thought she could fix Julian, like she'd always fixed everything.

But she'd been wrong.

It was up to Julian to fix himself—or not.

Of all the truths revealed tonight that was the deepest one.

So, she had no choice but to leave him alone with his past and his own truth.

Which left her alone.

Except…she wasn't alone.

Her hand settled on her stomach, even as the tears broke free and streamed down her cheeks. She had a companion and a responsibility as she stepped forward into the future, though it felt as if her heart fully broke in two as a determination solidified within her.

Julian would no longer be involved in her life in any shape or form.

So, though the future that lay ahead was uncertain, she carried that single certainty with her into it.

Though she wanted the man she was leaving behind with every ounce of her being…

She must let him go.