Page 66 of Scandalous Nights With the Earl

Phillip’s and her child. The child of Elmsworth that had never been expected. Panic settled next. What would happen when she birthed the baby? She was a woman with a difficult past and an uncertain future. If Phillip did not want her in his life after Simon St Claire’s accusations became public, which she was sure that they would, might he try to take the baby? Should she even tell him of this pregnancy because with every fibre of her bodyshe knew right then and there that she would never give the child up. Never.

Her hand rested on her stomach, different now to her from the way it had been even a quarter of an hour ago and her worries just fell away in the light of this amazing truth.

A mother. She would be a mother.

She remembered back to when she had told Phillip that she was barren after making love. He had been pleased with the news, wanting no complications and no extra worries. A simple, easy and sensual life, was what he had said, and they had laughed about it.

Now she felt so very different, and if he did not…?

She would have to tell him, she thought next, because it would be wrong not to, had to make him believe this child was not a trap but a choice. Her choice and if he made a different one then so be it.

Phillip. His smile. His silvered blue eyes. The delight they had shared together night after night. Every time she thought of him her heart broke just a little bit more.

‘Please let it be all right. Please let things become better.’ She whispered these words over and over again as she gazed out at the sea, rough from the wind and dark.

Chapter Fourteen

Six days later Phillip and Oliver finally found Simon St Claire. He was sitting at a table drinking with a small group of other men at the very back of the Red Hen Inn on the outskirts of Winchester.

Phillip ordered a drink and watched St Claire preen and pontificate, the words he spoke at such a volume they easily reached him here.

‘Here’s to the riches of the returned Belton Park, and may it long keep supplying me with money.’

A loud cheer went up all around him and Oliver swore roundly. ‘He is too stupid to even recognise any danger.’

‘This isn’t the moment to take him.’ Phillip’s voice was firm. ‘We will wait until he is properly drunk and away from the others.’

‘Will he know us?’ Oliver spoke softly.

‘In these clothes? I doubt it.’

They had dressed for the part, in farmers’ attire they’d sourced from the tenants at Elmsworth, the hats on their heads largely obscuring their faces. They’d toned down their voices, too, in the way they had done as children, the rough brogue of Hampshire much more suitable in this setting.

Phillip had to admit that the disguise was a good one and it would take a keen eye and ear to determine their true identities. Hence they sat for an hour on their drinks and waited till a few of the others had made their way home and Simon St Claire excused himself to go outside.

Following him, they made their way over to the line of bushes which St Claire was relieving himself into.

‘Mr Simon St Claire?’

The man turned and buttoned himself up.

‘Who’s wanting to know?’

In two seconds Phillip had crossed the space between them and dragged the man further into the bush, his arm firmly around the other’s neck as he pulled him backwards, choking. Once out of earshot, he stopped and threw St Claire to the ground.

‘Where is she? Where is Mrs Wilhelmina St Claire?’

The man grovelled and tried to stand but Phillip kicked him back down.

‘Don’t get up. Now, where is she?’

St Claire looked frightened, the cockerel inside diminished into a pale, uncertain man. ‘I last saw Mrs St Claire in Royal Tunbridge Wells. She signed the documents for the rightful return of the Belton Park estate, but when I turned my back she ran away and I swear I never saw her again. I swear it on the name of my mother. Who are you?’

Phillip removed his hat.

‘Elmsworth.’

Shock now showed in the other man’s eyes.