The Reluctant Suitor (54 page)

Colton approached Pandora’s bedside with silent tread, and as he drew near, her lashes fluttered slowly open. A faint trace of a smile curved her lips as her eyelids hovered droopingly over hazel orbs.

“Col . . . I’m glad you’ve come. I was so afraid you wouldn’t,” the actress rasped, as if thoroughly spent.

She managed a frail smile and then peered at him more closely, noticing his patch. “Did you lose your eye in the war?”

“No, I merely got something in it last night.”
A lovely vixen’s handbag.

Pandora reached out a slender hand toward him. “Sit beside me.”

Colton lowered himself to the edge of the bed and, gathering her hand close against his chest, leaned forward to search the darkly shadowed eyes. At one time the hazel orbs had sparkled with life and seemed vividly alive, but now their lackluster seemed part of the darkness that encircled them, visually foretelling her approaching doom. “I came as soon as I could, Pandora. What ails you?”

“You . . . have . . . a daughter, my lord,” she rasped weakly. “You . . . planted . . . your seed . . . within me . . . the last time . . . you were here.”

The shock of her statement filled Colton with cold dread. Almost as suddenly his mind became inundated with visions of Adriana. “But . . . but you said you weren’t able to have any children. You swore to me you couldn’t!”

“Ahhh
, that was before you came along,” she managed, a frail smile sketching across her pale lips. “

Took . . . a bold man to do the deed, . . . but you . . . were he. . . .”

Colton was stricken by remorse. “And you’re dying
now
because of
my
seed?”

“Oh,
you
.” Pandora tried to laugh, but quickly forsook the notion, too exhausted to exert herself to that extent. “You needn’t blame yourself. ‘Twas a difficult birth.”

Colton reached out and smoothed the limp, curling hair away from the ashen cheeks. “I know several knowledgeable physicians living here in London. My family has used them enough to verify that their reputations are above reproach. I’ll send my driver to fetch one.”

She lifted a hand to halt him. “ ‘Tis far too late for me, Colton. I’ve lost too much blood, but . . . there

. . . is one . . . thing . . . I would ask of you.”

“What is that?” He held his breath, fearful of her request. Even before they had ever made love, he had warned Pandora that he would never marry her. With far more to lose now than ever before, he couldn’t bring himself to even contemplate capitulation to that request.

Her dull eyes pleaded with him for a long moment before she issued an appeal. “Let . . . the Reverend Goodfellow . . . say the . . . words over us . . . ere I die . . . Colton.”

Throughout his career as an officer, Colton had gone to great lengths to avoid wedlock, especially with ambitious women. In spite of his tiff with Adriana, she was the
only
one he had
ever
wanted to marry.

Jolted by a sharp aversion brought on by the actress’s appeal, he gave no heed to the words that spilled from his lips. “But I’m as good as promised to another. . . .”

“I will die . . . tonight, Colton. Would . . . there be . . . any harm . . . in allowing me . . . some peace of mind in my last hours?”

He remained taciturn, unable to commit himself when marrying the woman would likely mean that he’d be losing Adriana.

“Please, Colton . . . I know . . . you explained . . . how you wouldn’t marry me . . . but I’m . . . I’m begging you . . . for my sake and for our child. . . .”

Colton felt a prickling along his nape. His instincts urged him to use extreme care in making any decisions. “What is to become of the child?”

The woman’s thin lips twisted ruefully. “I would . . . ask that . . . you take her . . . home with you . . . and be a . . . good father to her. You will . . . in time . . . come to . . . see how much . . . she favors you. She

. . .” Pandora swallowed with difficulty, and it was a long moment before she gathered enough strength to continue. “Although I haven’t . . . been with another man, I know . . . you need proof . . . that she . . . is yours. As you will see . . . our daughter . . . has a . . . purplish birthmark . . . upon her backside . . . just like her father.”

She gestured rather lamely to the woman in the corner. “Alice . . . has been . . . cleaning the theatre . . .

for some time now. She lost her newborn . . . only yesterday . . . and has consented to watch . . . over mine.”

Thus bidden, the scruffy woman rose from the chaise and brought the infant forward. Halting beside Colton, she seemed to smirk as she took the child from her breast, making no attempt to cover the large-nippled, blue-veined, filth-crusted melon as she turned the newborn over. Uncovering the tiny rump, she thrust the girl’s buttocks close to the lamp and, with a grimy finger, pointed to the identifying mark.

Colton’s heart sank. As often as he had glimpsed reflections of himself in mirrors he had passed while striding naked across a room, he knew for certain the dark splotch had the same shape as the one he had been born with; his father had had one and his grandfather before him. The presence of the birthmark seemed to confirm the child was his, yet he wasn’t ready to accept what he saw at face value. After all, its presence endangered whatever future he had with Adriana, and as much as he had first balked at that

idea upon his return home, the very thought of losing the girl now aroused within him a desire to escape the trap into which he now found himself plummeting. Although the identifying birthmark looked genuine, he couldn’t resist testing its authenticity by rubbing a thumb across the baby’s hind part to make sure it hadn’t been deftly applied using the grease paint of an actress.

Alas, his efforts to wipe away the stain proved to no avail. If indeed a fake, then it had been crafted by a gifted artist, for the purplish splotch seemed genuine.

Loath to commit himself to what Pandora was asking of him, Colton remained expressionless as the nursemaid returned to her chair. A part of him compelled him to do the right thing by the child. After all, if the birthmark was authentic, she belonged to a long line of Wyndhams, of which he was the last and only hope for the continuance of the name. He certainly didn’t want to have any of his offspring, even one begotten in the heat of lust with an actress, reduced to a pitiful state as an outcast of society, but there was also a side of him that urged caution. If he yielded to Pandora’s plea and she didn’t die, then he’d be forever bound to her, and that had never been his intent.

“Reverend . . . Goodfellow . . .

”—Pandora’s words were now nothing more than frail gasps as she lifted a hand and feebly indicated the rector—“said any bastard child . . . is forever doomed. . . . He also . . . said . . . I couldn’t . . . be absolved . . . of my sins . . . unless I marry the father of my babe.”

Colton might’ve argued the latter point with the man had he been of such a mood, yet that was far from the issue now raging in his mind. At the crux of what was eating at him was the quandary: whether to do the noble thing or leave a daughter of his to suffer the stigma of being born a bastard whelp throughout her lifetime. Could he condemn an innocent to such a fate? He and Pandora had known what they had been about when they had indulged their passion, but the child, as innocent as she was, would be the only one to carry the burden.

“I’m . . . dying, Colton . . . help me,” she gasped pitifully. “I don’t want to burn in hell. . . .”

Had his father been alive, Colton knew the elder would have had just cause to give him a stern lecture on the follies of a man sowing wild oats and then having to reap the harvest of foolish behavior. Now here he was, facing a decision he had once deemed totally out of the question. As many warnings as he had given to those he had bedded, those admonitions now seemed as dust underneath his feet.

Colton sighed heavily. “Though I’ve had little experience in getting married, I believe a license is required.

”

Reverend Goodfellow stepped forward with a hand clasped to his chest. “In my years as a rector, I have counted myself fortunate to have been in various positions wherein I was able to do some notable favors for those in higher positions. As a result, I have been able to obtain for Mistress Mayes a special license

from His Grace, the archbishop. Only your signature is required, my lord. . . .”

Colton realized there was still a bit of rebellion in him. “The devil you say!”

The elderly man peered at the nobleman curiously, trying to determine what had incensed him. “The documents must be signed and witnessed, my lord. Have you aught against solidifying the nuptials with your signature? Or is it that you do not wish to marry the mother of your child?”

The trap was closing in around him; Colton could feel it choking off his hopes and aspirations like some dark, unseen hand at his throat squeezing off the life-giving air or, more accurately, all the joy from his future. His greatest regret was his beautiful Adriana. When it meant losing the woman he had come to desire with his whole being, he was averse to rectifying his imprudence even for the sake of the child.

How could he even hope that Adriana would marry him after this?

No sound came from the bed, and Colton glanced around to find the actress’s eyes closed, her breathing shallow.

“ ‘Twould seem you have little time to remedy the matter, my lord,” the rector surmised. “Mistress Mayes is near to dying.”

Colton felt a pervading coldness spreading through his being. Venting a laborious sigh, he muttered none too happily, “I will marry her.”

“And the child? Will you be taking her home with you?”

“She’ll be raised as my own,” Colton avouched with an equal lack of enthusiasm.

It seemed but a brief moment had passed before the marriage vows were being uttered, feebly by Pandora and rather brusquely by Colton. Needless to say, he felt like a wayward lad who had been caught in a trap of his own making.

“The wet nurse informed me earlier that she’d be willing to take care of the child if you wish her to go home with you, my lord. Does that meet with your approval?”

That idea pleased Colton about as much as getting married, but he could see no way out of that predicament at the present moment. “ ‘Twould seem I have little choice if the child is to be nourished.”

As the rector gestured for the wet nurse to gather up the baby’s belongings, Colton found his stomach churning at the overt crudity of the woman. Making no attempt to hide her oversize breast, she laid the tiny nursling aside and rose to her feet. When she noticed Colton eyeing her, she gave him a wide, rotten-toothed grin and, wiping a finger over her dribbling nipple, pushed the digit in and out of her mouth suggestively, making much of her enjoyment as she slowly licked the finger.

Colton felt his stomach roil and turned away in sharp repugnance. He had been propositioned before, many times in fact during his years as an officer, but he seriously doubted such an invitation had ever come from a more repulsive creature. He could only wonder at the men who’d been of a mind to bed such a disgusting crone, but he promptly recalled having seen a fair number of males who’d probably have made the crone look like a saint.

“Her name is Alice Cobble, my lord,” the rector announced, drawing his attention back to the woman. “

She said her husband was killed in the war, so she has no one now. For her wages, she’ll require no more than a tuppence or two besides her keep. I have every confidence that she’ll serve the babe well.”

Of one thing Colton was sure, he had never seen a filthier creature in all his life, nor was he looking

forward to the idea of enduring her presence in his carriage on the long ride home, for the foul odor emitting from her body was so offensive it set his stomach awry. Her frizzy hair was definitely in need of a good washing; it stuck out in oily spikes from underneath the ragged kerchief tied around her head. Even now, she made no effort to cover her naked breast, as if she were actually flaunting it for his benefit. The fact that the babe had nursed at anything so filthy made him wonder just how soon he’d be able to find a replacement for the woman after reaching home. He hoped fervently it wouldn’t take very long.

Colton turned back to Pandora and realized her strength was rapidly ebbing. Gesturing to her, he asked the rector, “Can you not help her?”

The man stepped to the bed and pressed his fingers against the actress’s wrist. Then, with a pensive sigh, he withdrew and sadly shook his head. “I doubt your wife will last the hour, my lord.”

“I will stay with her.”

“There’s really no need, my lord. She’ll be gone soon enough, and if you tarry, your coach will likely be overtaken by soldiers who’ve come home to find work scarce and vittles beyond their ability to earn.

They’ve been gathering into bands in the city, and are creating havoc in retaliation for being casually dismissed by the governing bodies of this country—in other words, the aristocrats who are enjoying wealth beyond measure while the common soldiers are starving.”

“I’ve fought alongside many of those men and can sympathize with them. I’m willing to take my chances.

I wouldn’t want Pandora to die alone.”

“I’ll be here, my lord.”

“Just the same, I will sit with her,” Colton rejoined resolutely. “I’ve never been a husband before, but I’m of the opinion that a man shouldn’t desert his wife when she’s dying.”