At Last Comes Love (40 page)

And then they all became aware of a large traveling carriage approaching up the driveway.

“Toby,” Duncan called sharply.

But the child either did not hear him or was too excited to stop to see what his papa wanted of him. He went running off in the direction of the terrace, and Duncan went after him.

They all increased their pace.

Toby reached the terrace before Duncan caught up to him. So did the carriage. The door opened and someone vaulted out without waiting for the steps to be set down. He grabbed Toby, but the child wriggled free and came dashing back to Duncan, who bent briefly to say something to him and then strode onward to meet his visitors.

Toby came dashing back to the others, his feet pumping beneath him, his arms outstretched, sheer terror on his face.

Elliott would have scooped him up, but he dashed past, wailing in panic.

“Mama,” he cried. “Mama, Mama.”

Margaret bent down, gathered him into her arms, and stood again.

He wrapped his arms about her neck tightly enough to half choke her, and pressed himself to her as if he would have climbed right inside her if he could.

“Mama,” he said. “A bad man. A bad man has come to take me away.”

He was radiating fear and heat.

“Shh,” she said, rocking him. “Shh, love. No one is going to take you anywhere. Papa is here, and so is Mama. No one is going to hurt you.”

Pray God she spoke the truth.

“He is a bad man,” he said, his chest heaving, his face pressed to her neck.

“But Papa and Uncle Elliott and Uncle Stephen are
good
men,” she said. “And Aunt Nessie and I are good ladies. We are not going to let anyone hurt you or take you anywhere.”

Oh, dear God, let it be the truth.

His body gradually relaxed against hers and he stopped wailing, though he still clung tightly to her.

Elliott and Stephen had kept going and were on the terrace with Duncan.

It was Norman Pennethorne who had vaulted out of the carriage, Margaret could see now. He was handing down his wife from the carriage, and Randolph Turner was coming behind her.

Strangely, it was almost a relief to see them. This matter needed to be settled, and now perhaps it would be.

She kissed Toby's damp curls before moving onward.

“
There
he is,” Caroline Pennethorne cried, pointing toward Margaret as she stepped onto the terrace. “Oh, look at him, Randolph. He is a boy already, and you have been deprived of him all this time. It is criminal. You will surely swing for this, Lord Sheringford, and I will be delighted to come and watch and cheer with the rest of the mob.

The kidnapping of a child carries the death penalty, does it not, Norman?”

Toby had tightened his grip again and was moaning, his face pressed to Margaret's neck. His whole body trembled convulsively.

“You will indeed suffer for this, Sheringford,” Mr. Pennethorne said.

“You—”

“Might I suggest,” Duncan said in biting tones, “that we conduct this discussion in civilized fashion in the drawing room, away from the ears of servants—and children?”

Randolph Turner was standing at the foot of the carriage steps, silent and pale, his eyes riveted on Toby.

“We will not set foot inside Woodbine while you are master here, Sheringford,” Mr. Pennethorne declared. “Which will not be for much longer, I am delighted to inform you.”

“Then we will talk outside,” Duncan said. “On the avenue behind the house.” He gestured in the direction of the bridge. “Will you be so good as to take Toby up to the nursery, Maggie, and have Mrs.

Harris remain with him there?”

Toby wailed and tightened his grip.

“We are not going to allow that child out of our sight,” Mr.

Pennethorne said, “only to have him spirited away by the time we return for him.”

“Then Mrs. Pennethorne must remain and risk sullying her person by stepping inside the house with us,” Margaret said, suddenly coldly angry. “I will stay with Toby in the nursery, Duncan. He needs me. I daresay Nessie will too.”

She hated to miss what was about to happen. Waiting to hear about it would be a mortal agony. But Toby was not going to be left in the care of servants, even if Mrs. Harris had had the care of him all his life. He was the important one in all this, after all. And he had just called her Mama.

“I am not setting foot inside that house,” Mrs. Pennethorne said.

“The devil's lair. I am coming with you, Norman. And with Randolph.”

There was no further argument.

Margaret climbed the steps to the house, Vanessa beside her, and she carried Toby up to the nursery, where she sat in a deep chair, cradling him on her lap.

Vanessa disappeared for a few moments and returned with a large woolly blanket, which she tucked about Toby even though it was a warm day and his body was still radiating heat.

In no time at all he was fast asleep.

Duncan strode off in the direction of the bridge and the grassy avenue beyond it. Merton and Moreland were just behind him. He did not look back to see if the others were following. He did not stop until he was far enough down the avenue that they were quite out of earshot from the house or stables.

Norman spoke first.

“You deserve to be horsewhipped, Sheringford,” he said. “And it would give me the greatest pleasure to be the one doing the whipping. Unfortunately, you may escape with nothing worse than transportation or a hanging. I did not believe even you capable of such villainy. Caroline has been inconsolable since she learned the truth, and Randolph has been—”

“Norm.” Duncan held up one hand. “Before you launch further into your speech, may I ask if Turner has lost his tongue since I last saw him at my aunt's soiree? I would have thought this was
his
speech to deliver.”

Turner had not uttered a word since his arrival. But everyone looked at him expectantly now.

He cleared his throat.

“You aided and abetted my wife in keeping my son from me, Sheringford,” he said. “And then you continued to keep him from me after her death. I am not as hot-headed as Norman. I am of a more forgiving nature. I have come for my son, and I will take him with me when I leave. I am prepared to leave you to your conscience.”

“Randolph!” Norman exclaimed, puffed up with outrage. “You cannot possibly—”

Duncan held up his hand again.

“Yes,” he said, “it is what I expected you would be prepared to do, Turner. Is my guess correct? Is Norm the only one in this group who does not know the whole story?”

Turner blanched more if that were possible.

“I know—” Norman began.

“Oh, hold your tongue,” Turner said sharply, and Norman was left with his mouth hanging open, unutterable surprise on his face.

“My brothers-in-law know the truth,” Duncan said. “My wife knows it. So does my sister-in-law. The other members of our immediate family will know it soon as the time for secrecy is over. The truth can no longer hurt poor Laura. My wife's family are people of some influence, Turner. So are my grandfather and my mother and stepfather. All are people whose word is trusted. And all are people who can keep their own counsel when it is asked of them. It is up to you now to decide how many other people outside my family circle will know the story surrounding Toby's conception—no one or everyone. It must be one or the other.”

Turner attempted to bluster.

“I do not know what you think you know, Sheringford,” he said. “I do not know what lies my wife told you—she was not much given to truth-telling, God knows. The child is
mine
.”

“He even
looks
like you, Randolph,” Caroline said. “When he came running up to the carriage, it was like seeing you as a child again. No one, seeing him, can possibly dispute the fact that he is yours.”

“He also,” Merton said, his voice perfectly amiable, “resembles your half brother, ma'am. Or so I have been told. I have not met the man in person. Though I will if I ever need to. It would be a pleasure, in fact.”

“Gareth?” Caroline said.

“If that is his name, ma'am,” Merton said, inclining his head. “I understand he was your brother's valet five years or so ago—a pleasant arrangement for you all, I am sure. You must be fond of him.”

“Caroline, my love, what—” Norman began.

“You cannot prove a thing, Sheringford,” Turner said, his face flushing with color suddenly, his hands opening and closing at his sides, his face contorted with fury. “Of all the filthy things to suggest.

Is
that
what she told you? I—”

Duncan raised his eyebrows when he stopped abruptly.

“You will punch me senseless for provoking you, Turner?” he asked.

“I doubt it. I would punch back, you see, and might knock
you
senseless. You would not like that, would you? Let us be rational and sensible instead. I have a proposal to make to you.”

“Now, see here, Sheringford,” Norman said. “You are not in any position—”

“Oh,
do
be quiet,” Caroline said.

Norman shut his mouth with a clacking of teeth.

“This is it,” Duncan said. “You return to London, be quite open and frank with anyone who will listen—and everyone will—about where you have been and why you came here, and then declare that you were quite mistaken, that you are convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Toby is
not
yours, that he was conceived in sin while Laura and I were lovers before we ran away together. You will publicly repudiate him and refuse to accept him as your son or to take any responsibility for him. Then you may carry on with your life in any manner you please.”

“This is
preposterous
, Randolph,” Norman cried. “He is in no—”

“You would be well advised to button your lips, Pennethorne,”

Moreland said.

“How can I repudiate my own son?” Turner asked, licking his lips.

“He is
mine
, Sheringford. I—”

“You
what
, Turner?” Duncan asked him. “You watched him being conceived?”

Caroline clapped both hands to her mouth.

Norman gaped.

Turner blanched again.

“There will be some snickering behind your back, I do not doubt,”

Duncan said, “over the fact that I was cuckolding you even before I ran off with Laura. But it will be no more than most people already believe. And you will get off lightly, Turner. The ladies will weep over you. You may even put it about, if you wish, that you blackened both my eyes while you were here. I will not contradict you, and I daresay my brothers-in-law will not either.”

Turner continued to stare at him.

“Take it or leave it,” Duncan said. “If you leave it, Turner, the entire
ton
will know the whole truth. Doubtless most of them will believe the story even if it comes only from my mouth—people like to believe the worst of others, as you may have noticed. But when other, well-respected voices are joined to mine—the Duke of Moreland's, the Earl of Merton's, Baron Montford's, the Marquess of Claverbrook's, Sir Graham Carling's, not to mention their wives, I doubt you will be able to find a corner of England in which to hide from the scorn and scandal that will be the inevitable result. The law and the church may give you Toby, but your life will be worthless.

The choice is yours.”

“I
wish
someone would tell me,” Norman said, “what this is all about. You do not have a leg to stand on, Sheringford. You are a child kidnapper and a rogue. You have hidden the very existence of a child from his lawful and loving father for almost five years.”

Everyone ignored him.

Turner licked his lips again.

“He is my
son
,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“But he is not, is he?” Duncan said. “Not in any way at all. In all ways that matter he is mine. He even has my name. He was christened Tobias Duncan Pennethorne—my natural son, who will be loved all his life as dearly as if he were as legitimate as my other children will be.”

“And whom his new mother and uncles and aunts love dearly and have welcomed into my family too,” Merton added.

“Randolph,” Norman said, “would you—”

But Turner had turned on his heel and was striding back in the direction of the house.

“Caroline,” Norman said, “would you—”

“Oh, be
quiet
!” she cried, turning on him, her eyes flashing.

“Cannot you see that he is blackmailing Randolph and that Randolph has no choice but to allow it? You do not believe Laura would have run away from him if the child had really been his, do you? And he is not Lord Sheringford's either—he was besotted with
me
at the time. Oh, I wish in my heart I had never suggested that Randolph bring Gareth to London. I might have
known
he would be too jealous to make the idea work and that Laura would be too squeamish. And I might have
known
that she would run to Lord Sheringford and that he would take her away and abandon me to
you

. Oh, do stop gaping in that ridiculous way, Norman, and come along, or Randolph will leave without us.”

And she went hurrying back along the avenue, all delicate, feminine little steps and flouncing muslin.

For once Norman was speechless. He looked at Duncan, his lips working soundlessly, and then went scurrying off after his wife.

“
Dash
it all,” Merton said when he was out of earshot. “Neither one of them gave me enough excuse to break his nose. My knuckles will itch with frustration for a week.”

“A woman's way of doing things is never quite satisfactory to a man's way of thinking,” Moreland said with a sigh. “I still prefer your original plan of pounding Turner to a bloody pulp, Sheringford, while Stephen and I tossed the dice over who would have the pleasure of breaking Pennethorne's nose. But Margaret's plan really was the better one. Turner has been thoroughly and permanently vanquished, and not a drop of blood shed.
Damnation
! Why could he not at least have taken a swing at you?”

“At one point,” Duncan said, “I really thought he was going to. Alas, he remembered his true nature in time. Maggie has made Toby safe, but I
wish
her plan could have included just a small degree of violence. Or, even better, a whole lot of it.”