Page 85 of The Rogue’s Embrace

Two months later

It had been exciting enough whipping up his new bays as he left London to return to The Grange, but as Stephen dismounted in the stables and prepared to make his discreet entrance to the home where he'd been so warmly welcomed, he felt like a schoolboy on the cusp of his greatest adventure.

Yet he'd had adventures to last him a lifetime. The years fighting in the Peninsular Campaign had truncated his youth and brought him low for a spell yet, today, youthful optimism was in the ascendant as he trod purposefully over the cobblestones towards the kitchen door.

He wanted to arrive unobserved. If possible, he wanted to see his darling Sybil, alone for a few minutes, before anyone else knew he was here.

"Cousin Stephen! You're back already!"

Hetty's girlish cry of excitement caused him to jerk up his head but his disappointment was short-lived as she hurled herself into his arms before he was even half way to the kitchen steps.

For her greeting was genuine; as if he were her most favourite cousin in all the world.

How could one not love a girl who flaunted her heart on her sleeve in such an artless manner?

"Oh, we've missed you so much, Cousin Stephen. And even mama looks all misty eyed when your name is brought up. Why, it's been so long. And you look so handsome!"

She didn't stop talking as she took a step back and raked him with admiring eyes. Eyes that, when in the presence of someone trusted, looked bright and merry in her pretty face. Yes, pretty was an apt description, he suddenly thought, for never more had she resembled Sybil with her sweetly pursed lips and her soft, rounded cheek hinting at the softness in her heart.

Still, she was prattling on—and goodness, but he liked to hear it for it made him truly feel a part of something bigger than himself; a part of a family that embraced him.

"And I hear you've already distinguished yourself in the Foreign Office and are working on some very important matters to keep our country safe."

He was glad she seemed able to focus on what was ahead rather than dwelling on her cousin Edgar's death. Bad business, all round.

"I don't know about that, Hetty,"

he said, fondly, allowing her to lead him to the bench beneath the apple tree rather than into the house. "Yes, there is work that occupies me and keeps me out of trouble?—"

"Apprehending dangerous villains?"

She sounded excited as she sat down, patting the seat beside her.

"Villains parading as gentlemen might be a better way to describe it—am I not right, Cousin Stephen?"

A shadow crossed over them as a velvety voice interjected, and Araminta leaned over the back of the bench, unexpectedly kissing Stephen on the cheek. "Welcome home, Cousin Stephen. So! You're daily occupied by dangerous gentlemen? Please promise me you'll introduce me to any villainous suspects when we're all in London next month?"

Stephen glanced from sweet Hetty to her sister, as Araminta moved in front of them to rest her shapely form against the tree trunk. He wondered how the sisters could be related.

Wondered, also, how Araminta could be his darling, tender-hearted Sybil's child. Araminta had gained in self assurance in the two months since he'd been back.

Contemplating the beautiful young woman, he was reminded of the glossy arachnid he'd recruited for the summer's eventful house party; the glossy harbinger of evil who'd sunk her fangs into her mate when the poor puny spider had done as was required and was no longer of use.

But then, he thought, more charitably, that glossy arachnid had also won him his wager, plumped up his pocket book and restored his self esteem.

"I shall do no such thing, Cousin Araminta,"

he said amiably. "Your mother and I will be in London to ensure that you and your sister meet only eligible gentlemen. Not dangerous gentlemen. In fact, I can hear her now, exhorting me to ensure that not a single one of those crosses your path. It shall be my mission to carry out such a properly motivated mother's wish,"

he teased.

Araminta sent him rather an odd look and Stephen realised the way he'd phrased his relationship with Sybil did make it sound rather odd.

Indeed it was. But it was right and with time it would only be cemented.

"I must pay my respects to Lord and Lady Partington,"

he said, rising, more eager than ever to find Sybil.

And to be alone with her.

"I'm afraid papa is not here so you'll have to make do with just mama's company."

Araminta sounded bored as she plucked a leaf from the tree. "But she may be sleeping. She's been poorly the last few days. Perhaps we could go for a walk by the lake, instead, Cousin Stephen."

The last thing Stephen was going to do was endanger himself by taking up such a proposal. Dismissing it with as much charm as he could manage, he excused himself and hurried in search of Sybil, saying anxiously as he was admitted into her private sitting room and the door had closed upon them, leaving them alone, "My darling girl, I hear you've been unwell. Nothing too alarming, I hope."

Sybil opened her eyes at his entrance and the pure unadulterated joy he saw in their depths rocked him to the core. By God, this was real, he thought as he enfolded her in his arms, taking a seat beside her on the chaise longue.

With a deep sigh of what seemed to be happy satisfaction, she dropped her head onto his shoulder. He'd been anticipating a reunion charged with desperate passion but seeing Sybil pale and wan made him only want to comfort her.

"Stephen, my love, I have missed you desperately since you've been gone,"

she whispered. She snuggled against him, closing her eyes.

"So your ill health is nothing worse than a broken heart?"

Relieved by her reassurance, he toyed with her ringlets and stroked her face but to his consternation a large tear rolled down her right cheek.

Anxiety churned in his gut. This was not like the stoic Sybil he knew. He gripped her hand and waited, tensely.

"Dr March confirmed yesterday I am with child. Between two and three months gone, he believes."

She bit her lip and stared anxiously into his eyes as she fiddled with the silk tie of her dressing gown. As if she were nervous as to his reaction.

And indeed, it changed everything for him.

"That's wonderful news!"

It came from the heart. He'd not have imagined he'd be so excited and it was his initial sensation before he understood Sybil's concerns. He squeezed her hands and brought them up to his lips to kiss. "I'm to be a father! Do you know how joyful that makes me feel? Together, you and I are to have a child. Isn't that the greatest of bonds?"

"But the ramifications for you, Stephen?—"

"It was bound to happen sooner or later. I've no intentions of leaving you, Sybil. Not now, not ever. See, I've come back to say in person what I hope I've made clear in my letters: offer my pledge of eternal fidelity."

He touched his heart. "You worry that the age difference between us makes it inevitable our love is will run its course; that the time will come when I will want to marry and have my own family."

He cupped her face and kissed her brow before reverently placing his hand upon her belly, and his heart rate accelerated wildly. He was going to be a father! In a voice more soothing than the one shouting its excitement in his head, he went on, "But we will soon have our own family, Sybil. That's more important to me than anything."

"A child that possibly may cheat you out of your rightful inheritance because I insisted?—"

"Cheat?"

He shook his head. "It may be a girl, in which case nothing changes. But if it's not, I shall take the greatest pride in guiding our son towards manhood with a realistic notion of his responsibilities."

Galvanised by this thought, he went on, "Don't you see, this is my chance to show him how to be a man in a way that I was not shown. My father was a wastrel with little concern for me, and my mother cared only for pleasure. The more her beauty faded, the more destructive she became. I see all of that now, just as I see what we have—and are about to have—as the greatest opportunity to put right what has been wrong in my life."

He offered her a smile and, indeed, it truly came from his heart. One full of hope and joy that he was part of something good and pure and meaningful. "You, darling Sybil, you have been my salvation, don't you see?"

He was pleased that his words seemed to cheer her. With a little more energy, she reached up and stroked his brow. "I did not believe love like this was possible,"

she whispered, another tear rolling down her cheek. "I'm sorry for being so sentimental. I think it's the baby's fault. I was always in good health with the others but hopelessly emotional and too full of worries for the responsibilities I carried. Shall you mind, Stephen?"

"Try me, and I think you'll find I won't."

He gave a short laugh to jolly her out of her concerns and hugged her against his chest. "I like to have problems to fix so you just tell me your cares and worries and I shall enjoy having some worthwhile mission to expedite. What concerns you right now, my love? Other than the baby, that is, for the baby is our concern but it is only a wonderful thing—provided you remain healthy."

Sighing, Sybil rubbed her belly through the thin silk of her peignoir. She hesitated, then said, "In two months, when Araminta and Hetty are launched, I may be less able to chaperone them and keep a watchful eye over them, than I'd like."

"Then I shall accompany them everywhere! There! Problem solved."

He grinned. Truly, he wanted to leap up and dance a jig. Of course, he recognised that the physical between them would be curtailed but he was more than ready to embrace the compensations. He would be a father and, with Lord Partington's growing acceptance of the situation—which had been subtly communicated—Stephen would indeed be in a position to enjoy the conjugal and marital felicity with Sybil he craved.

"It's Araminta I worry about. She's already had one disastrous season which nearly ruined her poor chaperone. Now Araminta is bound to be a trial to you, too, Stephen,"

Sybil warned. "Hetty will wear her heart on her sleeve and, with her dowry, attract someone eligible if unexciting, I suspect. Someone I hope she can love. But Araminta is my immediate concern. She is reckless. She has the potential to create a drama that I fear…may embroil the whole family."

"I understand your concern,"

Stephen conceded, grim for a moment before adding as he helped her to her feet and led her to the bed, "But I've already told the girls, themselves, that I shall ensure that no dangerous gentlemen cross their paths."

"Stephen, what are you doing?"

He looked down at her, surprised, as he tucked the bed clothes about her. "Making you comfortable. Looking after you and our child."

"You're not going to join me?"

Hesitating, he shook his head. "You're carrying a baby, Sybil."

"You surely don't imagine that means we can no longer…"

To his surprise and amusement, she colored up, before clearing her voice and saying, "But of course, I hear some husbands can't bear the idea of—"

Pressing her lips together suddenly, she stopped and, intrigued, he lowered himself onto the mattress beside her and took her hands lightly in his, his feet still firmly on the floor.

He was most interested to learn more about the realities of what he'd only assumed to be the case when a woman was expecting but first he asked, "You're embarrassed, Sybil. Why? Was it your reference to the word husband? For that is what I am to you, in all but name—Let's make that perfectly clear! But now, tell me what I need to know regarding the two of us in the bedroom department. I shall be guided entirely by you."

It was as if Sybil had finally received all the reassurance from him she needed for light and joy seemed suddenly to radiate from her. She shifted beneath the covers and Stephen saw that she was making room for him.

"Did you lock the door behind you, my love?"

she murmured, a wicked look transforming her from concerned-mother-imbued-with-a-Madonna-like glow to intriguing vixen with some wicked plan up her sleeve.

"I shall do so right now!"

he said with alacrity, covering the distance to the heavy oak-panelled door with determined, enthusiastic steps.

When he returned, a warm, welcoming space had been made for him upon the mattress beside Sybil. Not long after that, Stephen was enjoying an even warmer welcome than he'd anticipated for the two eternal months he'd been parted from his true love.

With welcomes like this to look forward to, he decided as he contoured Sybil's soft, womanly belly and buried his face in her fragrant hair, he would endure anything to protect the happiness he'd found at last.

Araminta has no intention of letting Hetty bask in the admiration of the gentleman she has in her calculating sights. But will her wicked ploy backfire?

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