Velvet Chains (Historical Romance) (29 page)

"You would be willing to marry Season, knowing that she carries another man's child?"

"I would be honored to be her husband."

"What are your feelings for Season?"

Lucas looked the duke straight in the eye. "I feel very much about your daughter as you must have felt about your wife. I believe that if I were married to her I would never know a boring day. Long ago I recognized the qualities in your daughter that you just spoke of. I will be honest with you and admit that I am not worthy of her. There are things about my life that I cannot tell you, and I have known many women in my time; but if your daughter were my wife, you have my solemn vow that I would make her a true and faithful husband."

Mason Chatsworth was thoughtful for a moment. While Lucas Carrington was not of the nobility, he was a gentleman and loyal to England; and he was apparently well fixed, judging by the prosperous appearance of Rosemont. Season would never want for anything.

"Your offer is an honorable one, my boy, but I promised Season I would never force her to marry against her will. I intend to keep that promise."

"What would be your objection, sir, if I could convince your daughter to accept me as her husband?"

The duke was thoughtful. If Lucas were to marry Season, he would give her child a name, and he realized that from a woman's point of view Lucas Carrington would be considered a handsome devil. No. He could find no objection other than the fact that Lucas had no title. However, here in the Colonies such things didn't seem nearly as important as they were in England.

The duke ran his finger around the rim of his glass. "If you could convince my daughter of your good intentions…and if she were to give her consent, I can think of no valid objection. I warn you, she has always said no to her suitors in the past, and most probably she will give you the same answer. You are not to pressure her. If she says no, you are to consider the matter dropped."

Lucas stood up and filled both their glasses. He then raised his in a toast. "To my success with your daughter, Your Grace."

The room suddenly became silent. Each man was thinking about the girl who lay upstairs. Both men loved her, each in his own way.

Season walked to her bedroom window and looked down on the forest. Her heart somehow felt heavy at the thought of leaving Rosemont. She had not been unhappy here. Rebecca was the only friend she had ever had, and she liked Lucas, and was grateful to him for his kindness to her.

She walked over to the side table and sat down. Picking up the fork, she tasted the chicken Molly had brought her earlier. She remembered the time aboard the
Andromeda
when The Raven had forced her to eat turkey. How long ago that seemed now.

She wondered what The Raven would say if he knew she was carrying his child. If he would come for her, she knew she would not hesitate to go with him.

Sighing heavily, she stood up and walked over to the mirror. Her stomach was still flat and her waist was still trim. Raising her face upward, she closed her eyes. What would Lucas Carrington think of her if he knew her guilty secret? For some reason, that bothered her more than anything else at the moment.

Season thought back to her first meeting with Lucas. At that time she had thought he was the answer to every young girl's dream. Now that she had come to know him, she hadn't changed her mind.

She opened the lid of the trunk which contained some of her personal belongings and removed something wrapped in a silk scarf. Unfolding the scarf, she stared down at the wooden model of the
Andromeda
that Briggs had given her. Tears fell on the tiny ship as Season cursed herself for caring about a man who had forgotten her very existence. She knew she would always be reminded of The Raven by the child she was carrying within her body.

21

The Duke of Chats worth had been at Rosemont Plantation for three weeks. He knew Lucas would soon ask his daughter to marry him, and he found himself hoping Season would accept. The more he came to know Lucas, the more he respected him. He knew Season could do far worse than becoming the mistress of Rosemont. In the past weeks he had spent a great deal of time with his daughter, and each day she seemed to grow stronger. There was now color in her cheeks, she laughed more often, and she no longer kept to her room. Season enjoyed sitting on the veranda and listening to the slaves singing their age-old song as they returned from the fields.

The forest that surrounded Rosemont was awash with brilliant autumn colors, and here in this beautiful Virginia valley she almost felt at peace with herself.

Robert Wolf was supposed to return anytime now, for Rebecca was to be wed in two more days. Season had watched her friend make plans for the wedding, and she felt a bit envious of Rebecca's happiness.

Lately Season would find Lucas staring at her, and she wondered if he suspected that she was hiding a guilty secret. That morning Lucas and her father had ridden into the fields because her father had wanted to see how cotton was picked. Now Season found herself watching the road for their return. She knew she was not well enough to travel yet, but sometime that day she intended to speak to her father about leaving for England.

Hearing a rider gallop up the driveway, Season glanced over to see Lucas dismount. He slapped his horse on the rump and sent the animal running toward the stables. When he saw Season sitting on the veranda, he smiled and waved.

Season watched him approach. He wore buff-colored trousers tucked into brown riding boots, and his frocked jacket was thrown carelessly across his shoulders. She noted that his black hair glistened in the bright sunlight.

Lucas' boots made a crunching sound as they struck the pebble-strewn walk, and when he climbed the steps to the veranda, Season noticed he was watching her closely.

"It's good to see you up and about, Season. It has always been a belief of mine that fresh air is a great healer," he said, sitting on the chair across from Season and stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"I was told that you went riding with my father," she said, for want of something better to say. "Why did he not return with you?"

"Your father became so engrossed in watching the fall planting, he stayed behind with my overseer, Walls, to watch. He should be along directly."

"I think I will go in now," Season said, starting to rise, but Lucas gripped her shoulder, forestalling her movement.

"Stay with me for just awhile longer, Season. I have been wanting to speak to you for over three weeks, but could never find the right time."

She leaned back in the chair but didn't relax because she was wondering what he could possibly want to talk to her about.

"I understand you are feeling stronger, Season. I can see there is more color in your cheeks."

"Yes. I am well enough to travel now."

"Has your father mentioned the conversation he and I had about you?"

"No," she answered, wondering if her father had told Lucas about the baby she was carrying. For some strange reason Lucas seemed nervous and she wondered what was on his mind.

"Lately, I have come to believe I need a wife. When Rebecca marries Robert, Rosemont will be without a mistress."

Season felt as if a fist had just tightened on her heart. For some unknown reason, she didn't want to think about Lucas being married. Perhaps he was telling her that he wished her to depart Rosemont before he brought a new wife home.

"As I just told you, I am now well enough to travel. In fact, I was just thinking I would talk to my father today about leaving for England. I can understand why you wouldn't want a guest in your home if you are intending to bring a new bride to Rosemont."

Lucas sighed in exasperation, knowing Season had missed his point. "What I am trying to tell you, Season, is that when Rebecca leaves, I will be completely without female companionship."

"Lucas, I think I should advise you that when you propose to Mistress Bartlett, you must not make it sound as if she will be replacing your sister. Surely you can be more romantic than that. A woman likes to hear pretty words from her intended husband."

Lucas swore under his breath. He was making a muddle of his proposal, but dammit, he had never asked a woman to marry him before. How was he to know the right approach to a woman's heart?

"Season, I don't want a wife to replace Rebecca, and I don't want to marry Mariana Bartlett. My God, don't you recognize a marriage proposal when you hear one?"

Season froze. "Surely you are not proposing to…me! No, that would be quite impossible."

Lucas studied her face lazily. "I realize you are from English gentry and I am merely a planter from Virginia, but I believe you and I could get along quite well together."

Season's face paled. "Did my father put you up to this, Lucas? How much did he offer to pay you if you would make a respectable woman of me?"

"Asking you to be my wife was entirely my idea, although I did ask your father's permission before I spoke to you. You don't know me very well, Season, if you think money could induce me to marry a woman I did not choose."

Season suddenly felt sick inside. Lucas knew about the baby, and he was offering her the protection of his name. He didn't love her; he pitied her. "You go too far, Lucas. How dare you ask such a thing of me! Did you really think I would say yes to such a preposterous notion?"

"I find I like the idea of you being my wife. Does marrying me sound preposterous to you?"

"Indeed it does," she said, her green eyes flashing. "I never took you for a fool until now, Lucas. I never thought your kindness toward me would one day turn to insult."

"Can I ask you to explain that statement?" he asked, as his golden eyes took on a guarded look.

"I know you are only feeling pity for me. Well, spare me your pity. I will not marry you or any other man just to give my baby a name. I will have no man for my husband. At the moment I have very little regard for your gender. You are all selfish and think only of your own needs. I can very well do without all of you."

"Did he hurt you so badly?" Lucas asked softly.

Season didn't pretend to misunderstand, and she hated the fact that tears gathered in her eyes. "The Raven killed my heart!" she cried.

Lucas went down on his knees and gathered Season into his arms. While he gently stroked her hair, she cried out her misery. Lucas waited until her tears were spent before he spoke. "If you allow me, Season, I will prove to you that not all men are selfish. Say you will marry me, and I will strive to replace your faith in life as well as men."

A shudder shook Season's slight body. How easy it would be to say yes to Lucas. She knew she had some deep unexplored feeling for this man. Suddenly she decided she had to tell him the truth about herself. Perhaps then he would turn away in disgust and withdraw his marriage proposal.

Gathering up all her courage, Season looked into Lucas' soft golden eyes. Her own eyes were stinging, and at the moment it seemed that her throat had closed. Moving away from him, she realized the hardest thing she would ever have to do would be to be truthful with him about The Raven.

"Lucas, I am going to be honest with you, no matter how much it hurts. I will understand if you never want to see me again after I tell you about myself. I was not ravished by The Raven as you might think. I gave myself to him. I don't expect you to understand this, but I love him. Forget about me, for I am not worthy of you. Go to Mariana, who is fresh, and clean, and offer her your name. You deserve much better than I. With Mariana you would have a wife who loves you, who can give you your own children. With me, you would have a woman who loves the father of the child she is carrying."

Season saw Lucas' throat work convulsively, and she realized he was deeply affected by what she had just told him. "How can you love such a man, Season? You say you gave yourself to him willingly, but I feel you would never have done so if he hadn't used his experience with women against you. I had heard there was some kind of scandal about you in England, was that also true?"

"There is no reason you should believe me after what I have just told you about myself, but The Raven is the only man I have ever been with. If it were possible, I would tear him from my heart, but I just cannot seem to forget him. Believe me, Lucas, I am not the woman for you."

"I think you are wrong. None of what you have told me matters. If you will give me a chance, I can prove to you that not all men are like The Raven. I have never wanted to marry a woman before. Please, take what I offer you, Season."

"Lucas, you don't understand. If The Raven were to come to me at this moment and ask me to go away with him ... I would go. That's the kind of woman I have become."

"You must have seen his face then, or you could not love him."

"No, I cannot even offer that as an excuse. I know you will find it hard to understand that I could love a man whose face I have never seen. But I believe I would recognize him if I ever saw him unmasked. I will never forget the sound of his voice."

Lucas traced a pattern across the arm of the chair he was sitting in. "Suppose, after all you have told me, I still want you for my wife?"

"Then I would think you mad. You can have any woman you want for your wife. Have you forgotten about the child I carry?"

He ran his open palm down the leg of his trousers as if he was nervous—the one emotion Season would never have associated with Lucas Carrington. "No. I could hardly forget the child. You have my word that if you become my wife, I will raise this child the same as any other child you would give me. Think about that, Season."

"Why, Lucas? I don't understand."

He looked into her eyes. "Suppose I told you I have been unable to get you out of my mind since that first night you swept into my life? Suppose I said I am hopelessly in love with you and will find no peace until you belong to me? Would you believe me if I say you are the only woman I have ever loved?"

"No. I would say you speak a lie."

He smiled. "All right. What if I should tell you that I would like to have a wife who is beautiful and kind and carries a title?"

"Then I would believe you."

"Will you say yes, then?"

"No."

"Have you thought of the child?"

"I try not to."

"I think you should consider the child's future. You know what a child is branded if it is born without a father. The word is bastard, Season. Do you want that stigma to be attached to your child?"

Her eyes filled with tears again, and she despised herself for crying. "No, I wouldn't want that for this child. I try to think I don't care about this baby, but I find I am developing a true mother's heart."

"There is no reason for you to agonize over the baby's future. When the child is born he will have the Carrington name if you say yes to me."

Season thought of the other reasons why she should say yes to Lucas' proposal: she was more than a little drawn to him, and he lived a long way from London—she had to consider her father's good name in England. Still she was a little frightened of Lucas, not because she thought he would harm her but because he seemed bigger than life and was so overpowering.

"I could never make you happy, Lucas."

"That is not a requirement, Season, but I would do all in my power to make you a good husband and to give you happy days."

She smiled slightly. "Would that include giving up all your lady friends?"

For a moment his golden eyes blazed and his voice was passionate. "If you belonged to me, I would never want another woman. This I solemnly vow to you before God."

Season placed her fingertips to her throbbing temples. "I don't know, Lucas. You have taken me completely by surprise. I never expected you would want to marry me."

"Say yes, Season," he urged.

"If I did accept your proposal, you might live to regret it, Lucas."

"Not in a million years."

"I am not even sure I could ever be a proper wife to you."

Suddenly his golden eyes danced, for he could see that she was weakening. "Let us strike a bargain, my lady. If you marry me, I will not force my attentions on you…neither will I adopt a hands-off policy. Perhaps with patience on my part, you will one day come to me willingly."

She bit her lower lip and then smiled. I cannot tor the life of me, understand why you would want me. There are so many other young ladies, without my problem, who would leap at the chance to be the wife of Lucas Carrington."

"It's all very simple, Season. When I see something I want, I never give up until I acquire it—I want you." He took her hand, raised it to his lips, and kissed it softly. "Do we strike a bargain, my lady?"

Suddenly Season knew she was going to say yes. She couldn't understand why, but for some reason her heart was pounding and she could hardly breathe. "I will say yes, if you are sure this is what you want. I must warn you though, the day may come when you will regret the deal we struck today. If you ever begin to have second thoughts, remember the warning I give you today."