“It would seem awkward to exclude your future husband, the local earl.”
Before she could respond with her own jibe, Robert heard the wail of a child.
Audrey turned her head toward the back of the house, looking not at all surprised.
“What the hell is that?” Robert demanded.
“There is no need to curse,” she admonished, entering the drawing room and closing the door behind her.
She stood facing him, hesitation in her every manner, as if she didn’t know how to tell him—or if she’d even planned to. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
“That little boy is Mrs. Sanford’s grandchild, son of her older daughter, Louisa.”
“A widow, or so I heard.”
Audrey seemed to grow a little taller, shoulders back like a foot soldier reporting unwelcome news.
“She is not a widow. I recently discovered that the child is my husband’s bastard.”
Robert’s sudden fury with Martin Blake was only eclipsed by the thought of the pain this must have given her. Gently, he said, “So this is the secret your servants have been protecting all along.”
She nodded. “Martin took advantage of a young woman in his employ, and I will not compound his terrible errors by making this girl or her family suffer. At least he provided for the child, which is how I discovered the truth.”
“And what do you plan to do with this knowledge?”
She blinked at him. “Nothing. Louisa is welcome in this household.”
He frowned. “Are you certain that’s wise?”
As if she didn’t want to hear any words of caution, she opened the door. “I will do what I think best,” she answered. “And now I need to greet Louisa. Please wait here.”
That wasn’t going to happen. He followed several paces behind her, then leaned against the doorjamb as the domestic scene in the kitchen unfolded. Mrs. Sanford worked at her wooden table, a large cauldron bubbling over the fire. A young woman with the same blond hair as the maid, Evelyn, sat onanother stool, holding a squirming little boy on her lap. He had Blake’s black hair, and the same impudent expression that the man had worn heading into each battle, as if he knew something the enemy didn’t. Robert was glad Audrey couldn’t see the resemblance.
He watched as Mrs. Sanford and her daughter greeted Audrey’s entrance with resignation, but there was fear in their eyes when they looked at him. He said nothing, for once glad of the reputation a title could provide.
“Louisa, is that you?” Audrey asked.
Louisa shot a frightened look at her mother, then answered, “Aye, ma’am, ’tis me—and Arthur, of course.”
Audrey smiled. “Of course. I could hear his exuberance.”
Robert wondered how Audrey could smile at this reminder of her husband’s disregard of her. He knew it wasn’t the child’s fault, but how saintly could Audrey be?
Her expression grew sober. “Louisa, I know it is too late, but I would like to apologize for my husband’s abominable behavior toward you.”
Louisa burst into tears and hid her face against little Arthur’s head. The boy kept trying to turn around as if he didn’t know what was going on. Robert didn’t blame him.
“It was me own fault, Mrs. Blake,” Louisa said between sobs. “I was so foolish and I felt sorry for him married to an invalid—oh heavens!”
She looked at Audrey in horror and went off on a fresh wail. Mrs. Sanford left her mixing bowls and after lifting the boy onto one hip, slipped an arm around her daughter’s back. Louisa covered her face with both hands.
“Louisa, I do not blame you,” Audrey said.
She had far more generosity than Robert would have had.
“Mr. Blake was not a man to consider others,” she continued, “and he used you for his own purposes, just as he did me. He obviously exaggerated my blindness.”
Louisa nodded, dropping her hands to reveal her tear-ravaged, blotchy face.
