Page 138 of Their Master

Moira studied him a moment, waiting for more. When he said nothing, she nodded at Armand. “Show him into the sitting room and tell him I’ll be down shortly.”

Once he’d gone, Luke stepped closer. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, setting a hand on her stomach, as he was prone to do now—as if he could not stop touching her—which Moira loved.

She put one of her hands over his. “Shouldn’t I be?”

Luke absently stroked her belly as he considered her question. Now that he warmed her bed regularly, he’d stopped being so passive and often gave opinions before she sought them, which was exactly how she liked it.

If not for the brooding presence of Smith hanging over them both—or so she imagined, although he’d never once contacted her or bothered her in the months since she’d left—she might have imagined that Luke was her child’s father. He was certainly more excited about the child than any father she’d ever met.

“Charles is not a restful man,” Luke said finally. “And I believe he can only have come to make mischief.”

“You think he has come to gloat?”

Moira had known that Charles had returned because Luke had briefly mentioned encountering him at Smith’s house. She’d wanted to ask more—she was desperately curious about everything to do with Smith—but she knew Luke already straddled a delicate position and didn’t want to make matters any more awkward for him.

“I think Smith might have only seen him briefly,” Luke said. “I’ve heard from several of the servants that Charles has shown up uninvited and Smith has turned him away. I’ve also heard that he lost his position at Tosca’s. He went to Bernina’s and the Birch Palace, but neither place would have him.”

“Why come here, though?”

“I think he is obsessed with the master and he’ll have heard about you and the child.” He stroked her belly and his eyes were the blue of a flame as he stared down at her. “I don’t like thinking of you and the baby in the same room with him.”

Moira stood up on tiptoe and kissed him, already wet from only a few minutes of his gentle caressing. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go and see what he wants. Why don’t you knock on the sitting room door after a few moments and ask if I want tea. If I need help getting away from him, I’ll mention macaroons.” Moira had recently developed a loathing for the biscuits, which she’d once loved.

Luke nodded reluctantly, his usually sweet expression gone, the one that took its place grim, determined, and protective.

∞∞∞

The man standing beside the large sash window looked like an angel.

“Thank you for seeing me, Miss Dunsmuir.” Charles Smith strode toward her with the sort of grace that came with being completely at home in one’s own body.

And what a body it was.

He had a sort of otherworldly beauty that was almost overwhelming, which she’d known that from the portrait over Smith’s bed.

But as Charles came closer, Moira saw the signs of dissipation. While he might pass for twenty-five at a distance, he looked a good ten years older up close.

“You are probably wondering why I’ve called?” he asked, making her aware that she was staring rather rudely.

“I’m curious,” she admitted, gesturing to the chair near him and then taking a seat across from him.

His smile was charming, but it never reached his eyes. Instead, his gaze wandered over her slowly and thoroughly, lingering on her midriff.

Moira didn’t realize she’d laid her hand on her stomach.

“That is the reason I am here, too—curiosity,” he said at her questioning look. “After all, we are members of a very small club, you and I—those people allowed briefly into Smith’s life—and home.”

Moira had nothing to say about that—she would hardly open her heart to this stranger.

Charles smiled, as if he could hear her thoughts, and then sighed. “I’ll be honest. I just wanted to meet the woman fortunate enough to be carrying his baby. You see I’ve been bad and have been banished from his life—permanently, I fear.” He gave a brittle laugh. “I’d thought perhaps…” He bit his lip, his flush making him look younger.

“You thought we might console each other?” she guessed when he didn’t finish.

He laughed at her wry tone. “Now that I’m standing here, it does sound rather bizarre.”

He looked so embarrassed, lost, and alone that Moira’s heart went out to him. She, too, knew what it meant to be cast out of paradise.

“Would you care for some tea?” she asked.

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