How To Seduce A Sinner

Chapter Sixteen

Dorothea had not expected calm when they arrived at Jason and Gwendolyn’s home, which lay on the outskirts of London, a four-hour drive from the center of the city. She knew from her sister Emma’s letters that it had been tense and difficult as a moody, oftentimes weepy Gwendolyn neared the end of her confinement and the birth of her child.

Children, Dorothea corrected herself silently, for it was a real possibility that her sister would birth twins, a fact that she had shared with no one except Dorothea.

No, Dorothea had not expected calm to greet them, yet she was far from prepared to face the utter chaos that seemed to grip the house, and every person within it, as she and Carter stepped over the threshold.

They stood alone in the foyer, the young, confused underfootman who had answered the door by their side. Every few minutes, a servant would thunder up or down the staircase or dash in and out of a door, their expression serious and intent.

“The family is not receiving callers today,” the underfootman said in a nervous voice. “You should probably come back another time.”

“Mrs. Barrington is my sister,” Dorothea repeated. “We have come today-”

“Dorothea!” Emma’s shout from the top of the staircase was a trembling cry of relief. Wasting no time, the young woman rushed down the stairs and caught her older sister in a hug. “Thank God you are here. Gwen is in labor!”

Dorothea dredged up an overly bright smile. “Isn’t that exciting news? Why, before too long you and I shall be aunts.”

Emma drew back, her eyes wide. “You don’t understand. It’s been so long already and still the baby hasn’t come.”

Dorothea closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Oh, Lord, this was her greatest fear. That Gwen would not survive childbirth. It was an inconceivable horror that she had forced herself to disregard, yet the reality loomed before her now, stark and real.

A solid masculine hand landed on Dorothea’s shoulder, the strong fingers stroking up and down her arm in a gesture of comfort. “When did her pains begin?” Carter asked.

“They started last night, right after dinner,” Emma answered. “At first it wasn’t too bad. Gwen was even laughing and joking for a time, but things changed dramatically with the dawn. She is in terrible pain. If you stand near her bedchamber door you can hear her scream.”

A long, serious silence fell. “Take me to her,” Dorothea insisted, as the tightness in her chest refused to ease. Arm in arm the two sisters began to climb the staircase, with Carter following close on their heels.

“What is the doctor saying about your sister’s condition?” he asked.

Emma’s brows drew together. “The midwife is with Gwen now.”

“Where’s the doctor?” Dorothea inquired.

“Gone.” Emma stopped in mid-staircase and turned to her. “He frightened Gwen and made her cry. So Jason threw him out of the house.”

“Oh, dear.” Dorothea put her arms around Emma and held her tightly.

Emma shuddered. “It wasn’t pretty. The butler had to hold Jason back when he lunged toward the doctor, fists flying.”

“What could the doctor have done to cause such a violent reaction?” Carter wanted to know.

“Jason wouldn’t tell me. But he went pale as a ghost.” Emma shuddered again and leaned into Dorothea. “I’m frightened. She’s been in labor so long. Will the baby never arrive?”

Dorothea shook her head helplessly. She held Emma tightly, her gaze darting above her sister’s bowed head to meet Carter’s eyes.

“I’ll speak with Barrington,” he said, understanding her silent plea. “Where is he?”

“Outside Gwen’s bedchamber,” Emma mumbled, never lifting her head from Dorothea’s comforting embrace.

Flashing Carter a look of earnest appreciation, Dorothea cradled Emma in her arms and pulled her up the remaining stairs.

“I sent word to Jason’s brother, Lord Fairhurst, a few hours ago,” Emma confided. “They won’t let me see Gwen and I can offer no comfort to Jason, but I felt I had to do something.”

“Hush, now, don’t fret,” Dorothea said soothingly. “You’ve done a fine job and I know Gwen is grateful you are here.”

Seeing the fragile state of Emma’s emotions brought a rush of tears to Dorothea’s eyes. Goodness, she was only sixteen. Far too young to be coping with this crisis.

It seemed to take forever, but in truth Carter returned after a few minutes. Not liking the frown of worry on her husband’s face, Dorothea sent Emma off to the kitchen to ask for tea to be prepared so they could speak privately.

“Well?” Dorothea prompted.

Carter hesitated. “’Tis precisely as Emma said. Barrington is pacing the floorboards outside Gwen’s chamber, nearly out of his mind with worry.”

“Did you find out why he tried to punch the doctor?”

Carter’s gaze slid evasively to the floor and her heart went along with it. Oh, no. Dorothea grasped his arm and squeezed tightly. “The truth. Please. I need to know.”

“There appears to be some difficulty with the birth.”

Dorothea held herself perfectly still. “Is Gwendolyn in grave danger?”

Carter pressed his fingertips to his temple. “There’s always risk involved with childbirth.”

“This sounds like more than the usual risk.” Dorothea leaned forward intently. “Tell me.”

Carter sighed, clearly unnerved. “The doctor feared that your sister would not be able to safely deliver the child and wanted to intervene. But he needed Barrington’s permission. And he pressed him to make an impossible choice as to who would survive. His wife or his child.”

For an instant Carter’s handsome face blurred as a fresh wave of panic hit Dorothea. He reached out and caught her around the waist just before her wobbling legs threatened to give way. She clung to his neck, wishing it was all a horrible mistake, a bad dream from which she would soon awaken. But in her heart, she knew this was all too real.

“’Tis no wonder that Jason wanted to strike at the doctor.” Dorothea convulsed softly with a sob. “What can we do?”

“We must not give in to despair,” Carter insisted. “Gwen is still fighting. We must hope and pray that she and her child come through this safely.”

Dorothea nodded her head, wanting desperately to believe him. “Should we send for another doctor?”

“I suggested it, but Barrington said no. The midwife is experienced and your sister trusts her.” Carter’s voice was raw, but his expression was strong, comforting. “I believe it would aid Gwen greatly if you were with her. Do you think you can manage?”

Could she? Dorothea pressed a clenched fist to her stomach and choked back a sob. She had never been particularly helpful in a sickroom, having neither the temperament nor the constitution to aid her sisters or her aunt when they were feeling ill. But this was different. The stakes were dire. And if the worst, the unthinkable, were to happen…dear Lord, she could not allow Gwen to suffer alone.

Her stomach rioting with emotion, Dorothea released her grip from Carter’s arm and drew herself up an inch. “I’ll try.”

“Good girl.”

Carter’s obvious approval gave her fledgling courage a much-needed boost. Hand in hand they walked down the long hallway, coming to a halt in front of her sister’s bedchamber. Jason was huddled next to the closed door, his forehead pressed against the plaster wall. His jacket and cravat were missing, his waistcoat hung open, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone.

It was nothing short of shocking to see her normally fastidious brother-in-law in such a disheveled state, but Dorothea barely spared him a glance, trusting Carter to see to him. All her strength and efforts had to be saved for Gwen.

Dorothea stood for a long moment in front of the door, struggling to find the courage to enter Gwen’s bedchamber, knowing she must appear calm and confident or else she would make matters worse. This was not the time to indulge in her fears and emotions; she had to be strong and positive. For Gwen. And Emma.

Somehow Dorothea managed to blink back her tears, straighten her spine, and reach for the doorknob. It was surprisingly calm and quiet as she entered the room. Two maids were stationed near the windows, speaking softly to each other. An older woman, who Dorothea assumed was the midwife, was standing at the foot of the four-poster bed, her hands on her hips.

There was no movement, no sounds from the figure swaddled beneath the blankets. A pain pressed against Dorothea’s breastbone. It was too quiet, too still. On trembling legs she approached the bed. The sound alerted the midwife, for she quickly turned, her face defensive.

“Who are you?”

Resisting the instinct to cringe, Dorothea lifted her chin and spoke in her most regal tone, invoking a fair imitation of her father-in-law, the duke. “I am the Marchioness of Atwood, Mrs. Barrington’s sister. I presume you are the midwife?”

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Johnson.”

Dorothea cocked her brow and continued to stare until the older woman dipped a hasty curtsy. Then she sailed majestically past her, directly to Gwen’s side. “How is my sister?”

“Tired,” the midwife replied with an edge in her voice. “This is hardly an appropriate time for a visit.”

“I am not here to socialize, I am here to help.” As if proving her words, Dorothea sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress and stroked Gwen’s cheek. Her sister did not move. “Why is she so still?”

“She’s fallen into an exhausted sleep, but it won’t last long.”

Fearfully, Dorothea snatched her hand away. “Then I shall let her rest while she can. I heard that there were some difficulties with the birth.”

“’Tis just taking a bit of time, that’s all. A common occurrence with a first baby.”

The midwife’s words should have offered comfort, but they did not, for she refused to meet Dorothea’s eyes when she spoke them.

“Kindly look at me, Mrs. Johnson,” Dorothea commanded. After casting several worried glances her way, the midwife finally complied. Her blank expression offered no reassurance. “My sister will deliver her baby, her babies, safely and quickly, is that understood?”

Dorothea knew she must sound utterly ridiculous, but it seemed desperately important to use every ounce of her will and determination to influence the outcome. Gwen would not lose her life giving birth to her children. She would not!

“Yes, my lady.”

“My brother-in-law believes you to be a highly qualified individual. Is he right, Mrs. Johnson?”

“Aye.” The midwife’s chest swelled with pride as she straightened her shoulders. “I’ve delivered more babes than I can count, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

“Then I expect you to use every ounce of that hard-earned skill to save my sister and her infants. She is more precious to me than I can adequately say.”

The lingering resentment in Mrs. Johnson’s eyes turned to sympathetic kindness. “I’ll do all that I can, I promise you.”

Dorothea smiled faintly. “Good. And I shall help.”

At that moment, Gwen moaned. Her body restlessly twisted from side to side as though it were trying to avoid the pain and then suddenly she arched forward. The bedcovers flew off her body. Startled, Dorothea jumped from the bed.

“What’s happening?” Gwen screeched.

Mrs. Johnson pushed past Dorothea to get to Gwen. She spoke to Gwen in a low, hushed voice, then motioned for Dorothea to come near.

“Is it really you, Dorothea?” Gwen asked in a reedy tone.

Dorothea swallowed hard, searching for a calm voice. Gwen’s eyes were enormous in her pale face, which was etched with pain and fatigue. “Yes, it’s me.” She bent near the pillow and stroked Gwen’s forehead.

The gesture appeared to calm the laboring woman. “I’m glad. It’s hard being alone. I know that Jason is near to coming out of his skin because he wants to be with me, but truly, Dorothea, I cannot bear to have him here right now.”

“Shh, don’t worry about him. Jason understands. Birthing is women’s business.” Dorothea attempted a smile. “Carter came along, so I put him in charge of your husband. No doubt they are swilling brandy together at this very moment.”

A tear slid down Gwendolyn’s cheek. “I’m so tired, Dorothea. So very tired.”

“I know, Gwen.” She wrung the water from the cloth in the bedside basin and ran the damp linen over Gwen’s brow. “I’ve just had a nice chat with Mrs. Johnson and we are in agreement. You will deliver these babies very soon. There are two?”

Gwen began nodding, then her head suddenly stilled and she gripped her belly with both hands. Dorothea felt a chill of pure fright wrap around her heart as the searing pain paralyzed her sister. Mrs. Johnson quickly appeared. She instructed Dorothea to prop several pillows behind Gwen’s back and hold her hands tightly.

And thus the long vigil began. The minutes slid into hours. At one point the maids began lighting the candles and Dorothea realized night was approaching. And still Gwendolyn screamed and panted and labored to deliver her babies.

Knowing bravado was needed, Dorothea kept up a steady stream of encouragement. At times she doubted Gwen could even hear her, but she continued to speak, rattling off happy stories from their childhood, recalling fond memories of their parents.

It was loud and messy and monstrously frightening but the miracle of life would not be denied and, with her ebbing strength, Gwen at last pushed her children into the world.

“A boy and a girl. Fancy that,” Mrs. Johnson muttered as she washed the afterbirth from the scrawny bodies of the protesting infants.

“Are they all right?” Gwen whispered.

Dorothea turned and craned her neck. “I can see their arms waving and their legs moving,” she reported with a lopsided grin. Never had she felt such a giddy sense of relief.

The bedchamber door opened. Dorothea fully expected to see her brother-in-law, but instead Emma hovered hesitantly in the doorway, her eyes blinking uncertainly. “I thought I heard…oh, dear, the baby has arrived!” Emma’s joyful expression quickly turned to puzzlement. “Two babies?”

Dorothea puffed out her cheeks. “You know our Gwen. She never does anything in half-measures.”

The midwife and her assistant brought the babies to the bed. Dorothea and Emma eagerly crowded close to get a proper look.

“Would you like to hold them?” Mrs. Johnson asked Gwendolyn. “I need to go and find your husband and tell him the good news.”

Gwen shook her head. “I fear my arms are too weak right now. Give them to my sisters instead.”

Emma squealed with delight and reached out with both arms for the nearest babe, but Dorothea hesitated. Without waiting for her consent, Mrs. Johnson laid a swaddled bundle into Dorothea’s arms. The infant nestled quietly for a few moments, then suddenly arched its back and turned its head in a frantic attempt to find her breast.

“Ah, this must be your son,” Dorothea said with a smile.

She placed the knuckle of her little finger near the babe’s mouth and he greedily latched on, sucking furiously. Meanwhile, the baby girl in Emma’s arms slept quietly and contentedly.

Jason entered the room, barreling past the maids clustered near the bed. Mrs. Johnson followed behind him. “Is she all right?” he asked the midwife. “Truly?”

“She is exhausted and jubilant, as only a new mother can be,” Mrs. Johnson remarked as she gathered a pile of soiled linens and pressed them on one of the maids.

“But she will recover, will she not? You told me she would recover,” Jason insisted, his voice rising.

“Do not carry on so, my love,” Gwendolyn scolded in a tired voice. “You will frighten our children.”

At the sound of Gwendolyn’s voice, Jason froze. His eyes darted worriedly down to his wife. Dorothea could see his throat move as he swallowed, struggling to compose himself.

“Come, Jason, and greet your son and daughter,” Dorothea said merrily, hoping to lighten the somber mood.

Her brother-in-law glanced toward the infants, his expression distracted. “In a moment.” He sat on the edge of Gwendolyn’s bed, then gently gathered her into his arms. He held her thus for a long time before Dorothea noticed his shoulders were shaking. With a start, she realized he was crying.

Turning away from the intimate moment, she walked near the window, the baby snuggled happily in her arms. Emma did the same. In unison, the new aunts began rocking to and fro, delighted to discover the babies liked it.

“Forgive the interruption.”

Dorothea tore her gaze away from the baby and found Carter standing in front of her. “You are not interrupting,” Dorothea bustled. “This is a family moment we are all thrilled to be sharing. Gwendolyn has safely delivered her babies. Look, this is her son.”

She angled her arms and raised the baby so Carter could get a good view of the child. His expression turned curious. She smiled encouragingly and he inched forward, touching his finger to the baby’s hand. At the contact, the infant’s perfectly formed fingers curled around it.

“He’s very small,” Carter whispered.

“And red and wrinkled and sporting tufts of dark hair on his head,” she whispered back before kissing the baby’s forehead. “One would think with two such attractive parents he would look far less like a little troll.”

Carter smiled. “An apt description, I’m afraid.”

Dorothea nodded. “I vow our children will be much prettier, though I would never say so in front of my sisters.”

It gave Dorothea a warm, tingly feeling to be speaking of children. After seeing the hell Gwendolyn had endured, she was hardly anxious to experience it herself, but holding the precious bundle of life was slowly changing her mind. Here was something filled with promise and possibilities. The reward was honestly worth the price.

Suddenly the baby stiffened his torso, screwed up his face, and let out a loud, lusty wail. The noise startled his sister and she joined in with a distinct squalling of her own.

“I think they want their mama,” Emma said nervously. She scurried to the bed and handed the infant into Gwen’s waiting arms.

“And their papa, too,” Dorothea added. Before Jason had a chance to say anything, she tucked the noisy bundle into his arms.

His startled look of panic was comical. The bedchamber door opened again and Jason’s brother, Lord Fairhurst, entered the room. His resemblance to Jason was nothing short of remarkable, for they too were twins.

“I thought I heard a familiar sound,” Lord Fairhurst said as he drew near. His expression grew wistful when he saw the babies and Dorothea imagined he was thinking of his own child born earlier in the year.

“I’m a father,” Jason announced in a slightly dazed voice.

“Two at once, heh.” Lord Fairhurst chuckled. “Excellent job, Gwendolyn. My heartiest congratulations to you both.”

They all spent a few more minutes fussing over the infants before the babies began crying again.

“I think it’s best if we leave the new parents alone,” Carter said. He set one hand on Dorothea’s shoulder and the other on Emma’s and urged them out of the room. “There will be plenty of time to admire the new arrivals in the morning.”

Once in the hallway, Emma hugged Dorothea tightly, then declared she was off to bed. Lord Fairhurst announced he would wait to see his brother again before retiring. As they walked toward the bedchamber that had been hastily prepared for them, Carter and Dorothea were met by the butler, who inquired if they were in need of anything.

“Please have a tray of food sent to our room,” Carter requested. “I’ve already eaten, but Lady Atwood has not.”

The exhaustion hit Dorothea full force once they entered the bedchamber. She dismissed the maid and allowed Carter to help her into a white linen nightgown packed in her trunk. By the time the food arrived, she was yawning repeatedly.

“I’m too exhausted to eat,” Dorothea declared when Carter tried to tempt her with a piece of roasted chicken. “All I want is a warm, comfortable bed.”

To prove her point, Dorothea climbed into the four-poster bed, snuggling beneath the blankets. She heard Carter rustle about the room as he disrobed. Then he slid beneath the covers and tucked himself close to her. Dorothea sighed with contentment and wrapped herself in his arms, settling into the perfect position. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, and then suddenly her stomach growled loudly.

She felt Carter’s hand lightly stroke the lower half of her arm. “You should eat something,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”

Shaking her head, she turned and nibbled on his broad chest. “I’m too tired to eat.”

“Hmm. I could say something appallingly crude, but I will restrain myself.”

“I appreciate it.”

She set her lips to the hollow of his throat and placed a warm, wet kiss in that delectable spot. “I thought you were exhausted,” he whispered.

She silenced him with another kiss, this one on the lips. Pressing herself closer, Dorothea felt an aching twist of desire settle over her. Carter reached down and drew her knee up, then positioned her on her side, facing him.

She could see the raw desire in his eyes, but it was mixed with tenderness. Dorothea sighed. He did care for her. The knowledge gave her hope that one day his heart would open completely and he would come to love her as much as she loved him.

The thought fueled the excitement in her breast. Her exhaustion disappeared as passion curled and knotted within her. Dorothea could not keep still. Her hands roved sensually over Carter’s naked shoulders and chest, his muscles rippling beneath her fingers.

Wantonly she molded herself closer, raising her nightgown so she could savor the hard, hot feel of his body against her flesh. Twining her arms around his neck, she leaned in and whispered, “May I have a kiss?”

She didn’t need to ask twice. His mouth descended, his lips clinging to hers with frantic desire. It seemed as if all the passion he held within had finally burst and come flooding out.

She moaned in his mouth and leveraged herself up, brushing her breast against the edge of his jaw. Breaking their kiss, he impatiently shoved her nightgown out of the way, seizing the budding nipple between his lips. His tongue circled the delicate peak languidly, then he pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard.

Desire, hot and heavy, spiraled through her body. She reached down, fumbling between their bodies until she found her prize, the thick, stiff shaft of his penis. Lovingly she caressed the satiny hardness, then reached lower, delving into the springy tufts of hair covering his heavy testicles.

“I want you now,” she whispered in his ear, rubbing herself suggestively against him. “Please?”

Dorothea rolled onto her back and drew up her knees. Carter grinned and crawled over her. Eyes locked, he entered her swiftly, forcefully. The room echoed with her sharp exhalation.

“Christ. Did I hurt you?”

“No, no,” she choked. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s wonderful.”

To emphasize her point, Dorothea rocked herself forward. Carter sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Her hands slid down to the taut muscles of his buttocks and she pulled him closer. The heat of his body surrounded her and the longing deep inside her rose to meet it.

She heard the bed creak in a deliberate, steady rhythm as he thrust forward. At her urging, he increased the pace, working faster, cramming himself deep inside. She felt every thrust, every sensation. It was glorious. In this moment they were more than husband and wife. They were lovers, joined in body, in heart, in spirit.

She felt his hand slid down to her hip, twisting its way between their joined bodies, his long fingers searching until he found her core. He stroked her moist, sensitive folds while his penis continued to thrust deep and hard inside her.

Their mating took on a new urgency and the world around her disappeared as the tremors within her began. She tangled her hands in his hair and cried out, clinging to him as her body rode a wave of pure, intense ecstasy.

She reached completion first, but Carter soon followed. She let out a soft sob of emotion and wrapped herself even tighter around him as he shuddered violently, spilling his warm, wet seed deep inside her.

They lay entwined for a long time afterward, Dorothea curled on her side, her head nestled on Carter’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her. Her mind drifted on a pleasant, hopeful haze as she contemplated their future. Surely if she could cobble enough of these moments together the emotional intimacy she craved so desperately would develop?

“It’s been a good day,” he whispered.

“Indeed. A memorable one.” She smiled. “Happiness may be ever fleeting, but at this precise moment in time, I feel it deeply.”

“As do I.”

And with those comforting words, Dorothea fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was a festive atmosphere the following morning around the breakfast table. Emma had risen early and gotten a second look at the newborn twins. She reported that Gwendolyn had spent a peaceful night, while Jason had spent his time scuttling between his wife’s chamber and the nursery. According to Emma, they were all planning on sleeping in, well, at least until the twins decided they were ready for their next feeding.

Lord Fairhurst had sent word to his wife and parents, as well as his sister, Lady Meredith, and they were expected to arrive after lunch. As Dorothea consulted with the cook over the menus for the next few days, a message arrived for Carter.

“It’s from my father,” Carter explained after he read the missive. “He requests my immediate presence in London on a matter of grave importance.”

“Do you think he has taken sick?” Dorothea asked worriedly. Though she still had a somewhat adversarial relationship with her father-in-law, she did not wish him ill.

“He mentions nothing of his health,” Carter answered. “This appears to be some sort of family emergency.”

Dorothea hastily scribbled a few notes on the menu she was consulting. “I can be ready to leave within the hour.”

Carter shook his head. “There is no need for you to rush away. I know you wish to spend more time with your family. I will ride to Town and see my father and then hopefully return before nightfall.”

Dorothea caught his wrist and met his gaze. “Are you certain?”

“I am. Besides, it will be faster traveling on horseback than in the carriage.”

“Then, may I beg a favor?”

His eyes brightened with interest and she found herself blushing. “In my haste to get here yesterday, I forgot to bring Gwendolyn’s gift from Ravenswood. There is a hat box from Mrs. Jenkins’s millinery in my room. Would you kindly bring it back with you when you return?”

Carter blinked. “You can’t mean that overly decorated bonnet that resembled a bowl of fruit?”

“The very same. I believe my sister deserves a hearty laugh after all she has endured.”

Carter laughingly agreed, then left to make the arrangements for his departure.

Though the mood of the household was jubilant, Dorothea felt an odd sense of melancholy once Carter had gone. Knowing Gwendolyn and the babies were sleeping, Dorothea decided to take a stroll outdoors and enjoy the morning sunshine.

She followed several marked paths through the formal section of the gardens, then ventured down to the parkland. It was cool and comforting. She emerged from a shaded section of hedgerows and squinted against the sudden brightness of sunlight. It was then she noticed a figure in the distance walking purposefully toward her. A male figure. Carter?

Her heart lifted at the notion and she quickened her step. “Major Roddington?” Dorothea questioned as she drew nearer and caught a glimpse of the gentleman’s face. “Goodness, this is a surprise.”

“A pleasant one, I hope.”

“Yes, of course.” She smiled in welcome, though her mind still registered shock. What in heaven’s name was he doing here? “Is there something specific that brings you to this area?”

He smiled, a crooked, mirthless grin. “Why, I am here to see you.”

“Oh?” His odd manner, as well as his words, brought a queasy sensation to her stomach. She did not remember ever telling him specifically where Gwendolyn and Jason lived, nor did she tell him that she was coming here to visit them. Obviously he had followed her. But why? “Shall we go up to the house and partake of some refreshments?” she suggested.

Her nerve endings tingling, Dorothea stepped forward, but the major swiftly moved to block her path. “There’s no need to disturb your sister’s household. We have sufficient privacy here.”

“Nonsense. We shall be far more comfortable sitting in front of a warm fire.”

All trace of the major’s smile vanished. “I’m afraid I really must insist that we not go up to the house.”

Dorothea’s initial instinct was to turn around and flee, but astonishment held her paralyzed. He was not overtly threatening, yet his strange behavior seemed so out of character, so unlike the kind, even-tempered, gallant gentleman she knew. She shifted her puzzled gaze to his face and he quickly looked away, but not before she caught the expression of uncertainty in his eyes.

What was this all about? Dorothea scowled, trying to ignore the shiver of anxiety curling in her chest. They were alone, isolated. If things did become ugly or out of hand, there was no one in the vicinity who could come to her aid.

“You are scaring me, Roddy,” she declared on a shaky breath. With feigned calm she once again attempted to walk past him, but he would not allow her.

“I apologize. I never wanted to bring you into this mess, but things have gone badly, very badly, and I need your help.” His features went taut and he appeared to be struggling with a difficult choice.

Dorothea shook her skepticism aside and tried to tamp down her fear. And then the major began to speak, to tell her a tale so incredible she was speechless. His voice was low, emotionless, but his words were powerful. She heard every word, but understanding them was a slow, confusing process.

A part of her could not credit what he was saying, could not believe such an absurd tale. Yet as she stared intently into his face she clearly saw depths of misery in his eyes. At that moment, her hesitation dissolved. There was too much passion and pain for this to be a lie. Her eyes misted in sympathy, and Dorothea reacted instinctively, from the heart.

She reached her arms around Roddy’s broad shoulders and pulled him into a comforting hug. For a long moment the major’s arms hung at his sides and then slowly he moved them around her.

“You believe me?” he whispered.

“Of course!”

“Thank you.”

Dorothea closed her eyes and held tightly, but suddenly Roddy was harshly wrenched away. She heard a masculine grunt of surprise, followed by the distinct crack of a closed fist connecting with flesh and bone.

Horrified, she watched the major recover his balance and stare in shock at the man who had so unceremoniously assaulted him.

“Carter!” Dorothea’s heart lurched. “What are you doing here? I thought you left for London hours ago.”

“Was that the plan, Dorothea?” Carter barked, his voice panting with anger. “Wait until I was gone before meeting with your lover?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Even if there were any truth to that absurd notion, how would I have known you were leaving this morning? ’Twas the note from your father that summoned you away.”

Carter’s eyes blazed with stormy, self-righteous indignation. “If Roddington was lurking nearby, it would be easy enough to send him a message when the opportunity presented itself. The beauty of it all is that I would have been none the wiser, but my horse threw a shoe a few miles into my journey and I had to walk him slowly back to the house.”

Dorothea tried to ignore Carter’s icy disdain, but his accusations hurt. How could he believe that she would turn to another man when she so clearly loved him?

“Do you trust me so little?” she asked in a burst of vexation.

He ignored her and turned to Roddy. “’Tis a bit of a cliché to ask what you are doing with my wife, when my eyes clearly tell me,” Carter said, his expression closed and thunderous.

“Stop it!” Dorothea shouted. “You have it all wrong, Carter! Major Roddington came to speak with me on a matter of extreme importance.”

“What matter?”

“A personal matter.”

“Between lovers?” Carter mocked.

“Between friends,” Dorothea insisted.

Now what? Would the major reveal the truth to Carter? She cast her eyes over at Roddy and they exchanged a silent look.

A look that Carter caught, and it further enraged his already escalating temper. “God help me, I shall not be made a fool,” he cried, lunging forward, fists clenched.

Heedless of her own safety, Dorothea placed herself between the two combatants. Carter tried to move her out of the way, but she would not budge.

“Give me one good reason why I should not blacken both his eyes?” Carter bellowed in rage.

“He is not my lover,” Dorothea declared in a desperate tone. “Major Roddington is your brother.”