Page 80 of Surrender to the Earl
“I don’t wish to discuss this anymore.” Audrey crossed her arms over her chest and pressed her lips into a thin line.
“Oh, very well, Audrey. But you think things through carefully before making any decisions.”
“I already refused him and asked him to leave me in peace for a few days.”
Blythe gave a groan. “You foolish girl!”
“I have more important things to deal with than one man’s pity.”
“The Sanfords’ grandchild.”
“Yes, that little boy, who is my husband’s son.”
“His bastard.”
“That is such an ugly name for an innocent child. His birth is not his fault. I—I don’t know if there is something more I should do about all of this.”
“Do? Audrey, the boy is being provided for by Mr. Blake’s estate. You are taking care of his entire family by allowing them to keep their employment, even after their trickery and lies. What more can you possibly do?”
Audrey didn’t know, but there was something in her subconscious, something that wouldn’t let her go, bothering her all the rest of the day. She had dreams that night of her dead child, the first time in well over a year. In her dreams, he wasn’t too tiny, without the breath of life. He was a laughing, playful toddler, teasing her by hiding, so smart that he already knew of her blindness, and thought it only a part of her, the mother he loved, not a pitiable flaw.
The revelation of little Arthur reminded her in a more powerful way what her life would have been like had her own child lived.
She let the terrible pain of her loss remind her of all the reasons she was never going to put herself in such a position again, never going to love or risk such grief again. She wasn’t going to marry Robert.
18
As Rose Cottage came into sight the next day, Robert rode with even more determination. He damn well wasn’t going to cool his heels another day, regardless of what Audrey thought she wanted.
Because she was wrong.
He understood that she was frightened, that Blake had hurt her terribly—that Robert had, too, helping to cause the death of her husband and her unborn child.
But he damn well wasn’t trying to control her, and he was offended she thought he was. Touching her, pleasuring her, had been one of the best experiences of his life—and she’d tried to turn it into something sordid.
He intended to show her she was far from the truth. Somehow he would convince her that they should be together.
When Francis let him into the entrance hall, he thought the young man looked a bit pale and didn’t seem to want to meet his eyes.
“Please wait in the drawin’ room, milord,” Francis said. “I’ll tell Mrs. Blake ye’ve arrived.”
She made him wait a long time, and when at last she swept in, as regal as a queen in flower-sprigged white muslin, indignation still hid behind her cool expression.
To his surprise, he had to mightily resist the urge to sweep her into his arms, to take up where they had left off, to prove to her with his body that they belonged together.
“Lord Knightsbridge,” she said, hands clasped before her. “I didn’t think I would see you for at least another day.”
Using formal titles, was she? “Good morning, Audrey.”
She only bowed her head.
Clenching his jaw, he plunged on. “I thought the invitation from Lady Flitcroft would change your mind.”
Her expression shifted to one of confusion. “Invitation? I received none.”
It was his turn to be confused. “Why would I receive an invitation from a woman I’ve never met, if it wasn’t because of my engagement to you? She can’t simply be attempting to move up a social circle.”
“The woman is incredibly shy. I had tea with her several days ago.” Then she hesitated, and an expression of understanding briefly crossed her face. “Excuse me for a moment.”
