Page 138 of Harpy of the Ton
She nodded. “Yes—that’s it! A duchess—I’m alady, a-and I’m to be a duchess.”
She turned to Lawrence.
“Oh, Lawrence, isn’t it wonderful? I-I can remember. I know who I am. I…”
“Mama! Papa!” excited voices shrieked from inside the cottage, then the door burst open and the children rushed out.
“Billy!” Bella cried. “Bobby, Jonathan—I can remember who I am. I’m—”
“Thomas!” Dunton roared. “Keep those brats away from my fiancée.”
The thickset footman strode toward the children, fists raised.
“Stop!” Lawrence cried. “Lay a finger on my children, you devil, and you’ll regret it.”
“He’s not the devil,” Dunton sneered. “Youare.”
“Papa, who’s that man?” Roberta asked. Then she turned to Bella. “Mama?”
Bella drew in a sharp breath. “Bobby…” she whispered. Then she frowned and lifted her hand to her forehead.
“Bella, are you all right?” Lawrence asked.
“Don’t youdarespeak to her!” Dunton snarled. He drew Bella toward him. “Are you well, Lady Arabella?”
“M-my head hurts.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they glistened with tears. “I-I’m here with…”
She shook her head and glanced toward Lawrence.
“A-are we married? You said you’re my husband. A-and the children…”
“Mama?” Roberta stepped toward her.
“Leave her be, Bobby, love,” Lawrence said.
“Th-they’re not my children, are they?” Bella shook her head. “How can they be my children? M-my accident was…”
“Four months ago,” Dunton said.
“Th-that can’t be true,” she whispered. “No—w-we’ve been…” Her voice trailed off.
“Bella—” Lawrence began.
“Donotpresume to address my fiancée!” Dunton boomed.
“Papa,” Jonathan said, “is Mama leaving?”
“She’s not your mother, you vile urchin!” Dunton said.
Lawrence’s heart cracked as Jonathan let out a whimper and clung to his leg. “Papa, has this man come to take Mama away?”
Bella stared at Jonathan—the child she’d taken into her arms before they left for the Trelawneys’ house and called him her most precious boy. But the love Lawrence had once seen in her eyes had been replaced by confusion.
Then the confusion turned into horror.
She lifted her gaze to Lawrence, her sapphire eyes hardening.
“I-I’m not Bella Baxter,” she whispered. “I’m Lady Arabella Ponsford. Who are you?”
