Page 34 of A Landscape of Love

“Hart,” he said, not looking at her for fear of what he might do if he saw her beautiful face staring at him like he’d hung the moon. “You can’t go about calling me Mr De Beauvoir after a kiss like that. My name is Hartley, my friends call me Hart.”

“My Hart,” she said, a smile in her voice that had his eyes flying to hers, and it had been the mistake he’d believed it would be.

Her eyes were soft, full of something that looked a good deal like love. Gratitude, he reminded himself sternly. Friendly affection. Nothing more.

She laughed then and laid a hand on his arm. “Oh, don’t look so wretched. I know you’re not really mine, only it sounded so perfect, when I have given you my heart, my Hart.”

She smiled at him and the sight of it stole his wits and his breath, and he reached for her, pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“I’ll make you safe,” he promised her, even though he’d no idea how to do that. “I’ll find your son and a place for you to live. I’ll make sure you’ve everything you need, Fidelia, you’ve my word upon it.”

She pushed out of his embrace, staring up at him. “I cannot ask that of you,” she exclaimed, shocked. “I’m not your responsibility and won’t be a burden to you. No more than I must be at least,” she added judiciously.

“You’re no burden,” he said, almost laughing at the idea.

“I will accept your offer to get my boy back, and… and I may need help in finding a small house and…” Her lip trembled, but she stiffened it, putting up her chin. “I know you think me utterly foolish, and you think that I shan’t survive alone, and… and I know I am unprepared for the challenges ahead, but I will manage. I’m not entirely the fool everyone thinks me. I shall sell my paintings. You said I had talent, did you not?”

Hart nodded, considering this. “You do, and yes, I think you could. I could put them in front of people who would be interested, but Fidelia, you need not—”

“Yes, I do need,” she said, pride glittering in her eyes. “You are too kind, Mr De Beauvoir, and you are getting yourself into just the kind of trouble I warned you about. You don’t want a wife and children, remember? And to support me and my child would give you all the aggravation of the things you don’t want and none of the benefits. Besides which, everyone will think I’m your mistress and the child is yours. You’ll be the subject of gossip and you know very well how much you would hate that.”

Despite himself, he smiled at her words. Lord, but she was fierce with pride, and he admired her for it, despite knowing she was ill-equipped to survive alone. Pride would get her so far, but it wasn’t enough. The world was cruel to a woman alone and she would be a lamb to the slaughter. She was right, though. The gossip would be hard to bear. Society would certainly lay the blame at his door if they discovered he was supporting her, and that would put paid to any plans he had to work for the great houses of England as a designer.

“Then we’ll just have to be careful,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, even though the idea of taking such a risk made him nauseous.

Fidelia stared at him and then let out a breath, shaking her head. “I won’t let you ruin yourself on my behalf. I don’t deserve such a sacrifice.”

“Yes,” Hart said simply. “You do, but I’m not about to lie down on the altar and let society trample me, either. If we’re careful, no one need know. And in the short term, I’ve a place you can go, somewhere you’ll both be safe until the dust settles. It’s discreet and no one there will judge you or be unkind to you, I promise.”

“You’ll just rearrange the world and make everything all right for me, won’t you,” she said, gazing at him in wonder.

Hart returned a sad smile. “I wish I could, Fidelia, but you’ve a hard road ahead, even with my help. You understand that?”

“I do,” she replied, holding his gaze.

Hart doubted that very much and, as he considered all the difficulties she would face, his chest grew tight with anxiety. His heart hurt to wonder how she would fare if he wasn’t around to look out for her. One thing at a time, he told himself firmly. There was a good deal to arrange, and the first thing was for him to go to the foundling hospital and get her son.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” he said, understanding she would never be at ease until she knew her child was safe.

“Very well, but how will I get away?”

“No, love,” he said gently, taking hold of her hand. “Not yet. There’s too much to arrange and you are far from ready. I’ll get your son and take him to the place I mentioned. There are lovely people there who will take good care of him until you are ready to take him, I promise you that.”

“But, Hart,” she protested, and the way she said his name so naturally made something in his chest shift, rearranging itself into a new shape.

“I’ll make it right, Fidelia. Do you trust me?”

She gazed into his eyes, searching his expression. “You know I do,” she said with a sigh.

“And you can,” he told her, reaching out and stroking her cheek. She turned into his touch, pressing his hand against her face and a soft kiss against his palm. “You can trust me. I won’t let you down.”

“I believe you,” she said simply, and Hart knew he was caught.

One way or another, he had to find a way for her to be happy and safe with her son. He would be worthy of that look in her eyes, of her belief in him, if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter 10

Dearest Miss Violetta,