A Season for Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

Longville, the one of you
at that age? Well, Laurence could have posed for that portrait
himself. Perhaps that’s why mama wished to wait,” Caroline rushed
on hopefully. “She wanted you to see that Laurence is truly
yours.”
    “ By God, if she were not already dead,
I swear I’d—”
    “ Do not say it, papa, I beg of
you!”
    The Duke of Longville squeezed shut his eyes,
drew in a deep breath. A shudder wracked his tall elegant frame. It
was some moments before he unclenched his fists and regarded his
daughter with something less than murder in his eye. “Was the birth
properly recorded?” he demanded.
    “ Yes, Your Grace. The doctor and the
vicar have always known, but they are highly discreet.”
    “ A bit too discreet,” the duke
snapped.
    “ Papa, you could not wish them
to—”
    Would I not?” His tone was ominous.
    Hastily, Caroline fumbled with her reticule,
finally producing much-folded letters from both the doctor and the
vicar who served the small village not far from Windermere. After
handing the documents to her father, Lady Caroline folded her hands
and waited with wary fortitude. Was not “kill the messenger” a
well-known ancient adage? Would he beat her? Cast her into the
street? Tell her never to darken his door again?
    When the duke finished reading, he let the
letters rest in his lap, one finger slowly tapping against the fine
parchment. “Caroline,” he said gently, almost as if she were a
child caught sneaking an extra biscuit from the tea tray, “did you
truly believe I would doubt your mother’s virtue?”
    For a moment she was speechless. “No-o,” she
stammered at last, “but I knew you would insist on having
proof.”
    “ For me, proof is seeing the child.” He
looked down at the letters in his lap. “But the solicitors will, of
course, demand more. Tell me,” he asked with sudden intent, “did
Hervey, your mother’s solicitor, know about the boy?”
    “ Oh, no, we never told him.”
    “ And no one in the Lake District ever
revealed your secret?”
    “ We—mama—that is . . .you see,”
Caroline raised her anguished gaze to confront her father bravely.
“No one knew who we were. Mama was Mrs. Tennet, just another widow
forced to rusticate in a cottage in the country.”
    The duke’s supreme effort to be reasonable
failed. “You know perfectly well she might have lived in a manor
house of her choosing,” he roared. “There was never a need for her
to wear a hair shirt or live without the deference due her.”
    “ Yes, papa,” Caroline murmured, “but
she did not see it so. I assure you, though we lived quietly, we
lived most comfortably. Mr. Hervey never failed to deliver our
allowance in timely fashion.”
    After several moments of vibrating silence,
Lady Caroline was treated to the surprising sight of His Grace, the
Duke of Longville sinking his teeth into the knuckle above his
index finger. “He looks like me?” he said at last. “He is
healthy?”
    “ Oh, yes, papa. To both your questions.
And he has had Miss Tompkins to teach him all that is proper. I
knew, of course, even before I heard of your intended marriage,
that I must tell you soon, so he might go to school as a marquess
should, but . . . when I read of your betrothal, I knew I must come
straightway.”
    Two pairs of amber eyes, father and
daughter, met in an odd moment of complete understanding. Longville
was appalled. His Caroline was too young to be so world weary, to
be so certain he was marrying again solely for an heir. Of course,
that was undoubtedly the word being spread as fast as the mail
would travel by the meddling tabbies of the ton . Nor was there any point in denying it. The
dukedom needed an heir. Therefore, the duke needed a wife. A sorry,
but absolute, fact.
    Wedding. Lady
Eugenia . Here he was about to go haring off to the
Lake District, with his nuptials less than a fortnight away. Strong
and particularly pungent profanity was trapped behind closed lips
only when Marcus