Page 38 of A Virgin for the Rakish Duke (Romancing a Rake #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY

J eremy stared down into the crib. The room, which had been given to the infant and his nursemaid, had once been a playroom.

It had long since been given over to dust and time.

Jeremy had no children, or at least none that he knew of, and had not missed them.

He was content for the playroom to remain unused and abandoned.

And now I have a child. One that I did not know existed until now. And a duty that goes beyond any petty ambitions or desires of mine. I gave up the El Dorado for Harriet. Now I must give her up for my son…

He sighed tiredly. The infant slept, and Jeremy tried to feel some kinship with the tiny bundle. He could not.

Perhaps that is to be expected. Perhaps those feelings develop in the fullness of time. He is my son, or he would not have the birthmark. That must surely be hereditary.

Turning away, he left the room. There was an emptiness in his chest where his heart should have been filling him with love and warmth. A woman he had once thought that he loved returned to him. A son and heir presented to him. That alone was enough to make most men happy. To make them proud.

Jeremy felt nothing except loss.

“You seem to carry the weight of the world,” Florence whispered as he quietly closed the door of the playroom, now the nursery.

He looked around in surprise. She had changed into one of the gowns that she had left behind, which he had commissioned for her a year ago.

Not one of the ballgowns, but a dress of light material and bright colors.

Perfectly suited for summer and Florence's coloring. She stood before him, smiling shyly.

“Not really,” he replied.

“Do you still dream of your city of gold?” she asked.

City of Gold. El Dorado. Yes, I did share that ambition with her. I shared much.

“No, that dream has faded away. I believe the son will inherit the Winchester Opera House if he can convince his parents he is trustworthy.”

“Simon? Trustworthy?” Florence laughed, then shook her head, “That was neither charitable nor Christian of me. Forgive me. I am sure he will be a credit to his family. As I am sure you will be.”

Jeremy had started walking along the hallway towards the library, though he did not feel like reading. It was movement for the sake of movement, just to be doing something. He felt listless, like a ship stranded in sudden doldrums. Florence followed.

“In what way?” Jeremy asked.

“As a father,” Florence replied.

“I do not feel fatherly. I am not sure I would know how to.”

She smiled. “The dilemma of every man who becomes a father, I am sure, but I know that you will excel.”

Jeremy suddenly glimpsed this situation from Florence's point of view.

Pregnant out of wedlock. He thought back to her circumstances.

Mother long since deceased. Father died after a long illness that had left him bedridden for years and had drained the family of capital.

Brother had cut her off, too. Florence had been living on a pittance of an annuity when Jeremy had known her.

“I'm sorry, Florence. I am being churlish. This has all come as a shock to me and has necessitated a change in my plans. A… complete change. What made you come here now anyway? Why did you not tell me sooner? It was you who left me, after all.”

Florence flushed, looking away. “I thought you should know your son, that you would welcome knowing him. As to why I left... it is because of him. I realized that I was with child and did not want to be yet another mistress with a child out of wedlock. I would rather be a mother alone than that. But I could not deny you the chance to know little Edward. I named him after your father.”

They reached the library, and Jeremy opened the door for Florence, ushering her inside.

The room was tall and dark, rafters lost in shadow.

The presence of the books, musty and dusty, served to increase the sense of enclosure.

Tall windows at the far end of the room were half obscured by the climbing ivy outside.

Jeremy spied a dusty decanter on a side table, evidence of how long it had been since he had spent any time in this room.

Or perhaps it was my father. Still, brandy does nothing but improve with age.

He unstoppered the decanter and poured himself an unhealthy measure into a nearby tumbler. The sharp tang of the drink and the heat that coursed down his throat into his stomach were welcome. It was a whip of fire to flagellate himself with.

My own actions have brought me to this fate. To give up a woman I believe I love in favor of one I do not care for. Had I not been such a boorish rake, this would never have happened.

But then it was his rebellious nature that had brought him into contact with Harriet in the first place. A mistaken identity by a young man pursuing a romantic adventure when he should have been focusing on impressing the Winchesters.

“What are you thinking, Jimmy. I do so hate when you retreat behind your walls,” Florence said with a tut.

Jeremy winced, his back to her. It was too close to what Harriet had said. He poured another drink, downing it before turning to Florence. She stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped in front of her, looking helpless.

“I'm sorry. My life is in somewhat of an upheaval lately. And this revelation on top of everything else...”

Florence crossed the floor to him and took his hands in hers.

She looked up at him and smiled. It was the same smile that would once have set his blood afire and cast aside his inhibitions like a discarded coat on a hot day.

Now it left him cold, his heart locked in permafrost. To ease her feelings, he smiled in return.

“I truly believe we can be a happy family together. Whatever upheaval you have faced, we can face together, and I can help you to navigate.”

“As my wife,” Jeremy finished.

“Yes. I did not wish to impose, but if you are to acknowledge Edward as yours, then it would be wise to marry,” Florence nodded sagely.

Jeremy would not have detected the anticipation in her face had he not known her well once upon a time. The slight widening of the eye, parting of the lips. The way her ear lobes reddened when she was excited. He frowned, wondering what she was feeling so worked up about.

She cannot believe that I will reject her and Edward. I may have been a feckless rake in the past, but I have some semblance of honor. I would not reject my own child.

“Of course we will be married. Of course I will acknowledge him publicly.”

Florence's smile widened, and she raised herself on tiptoes, pursing her lips as though to kiss him. He stepped away, turning his head.

“That is not to say that we will live as man and wife privately. I... cannot. Not so soon after...”

“After this other woman. The one you went chasing after the other day,” Florence groused, her tone hardening.

Jeremy looked at her sharply, and she burst into laughter.

“I know you, remember? I can tell when your eye has been drawn and by what. I am not jealous, as I know that... I am not jealous,” she repeated, stopping herself from saying something else, ears reddening.

Jeremy found himself wondering what else she had intended to say.

“Know what?” he asked.

“It does not matter. And I do not want to know who she is. It only matters that you are... Edward's father.”

Again, there had been a hesitation, and Florence had changed her words. Jeremy shook his head, trying to dislodge his suspicions. They did not matter. His duty was clear. As was his fate.