Page 45 of A Winter Scandal

“And yours,” Gabriel replied flatly. “The resemblance is difficult to deny.”

Rawdon turned his head to look straight at Gabriel. “And of course you would leap from that to the idea that I raped Jocelyn. Did Jocelyn say that?”

“She told me nothing, but it’s not very hard to follow: Jocelyn fled our house rather than face the shame of bearing your baby. For a woman to choose that path instead of marrying the father of her child, she would have to despise the father.”

Rawdon’s blue gaze was glacial. His tone matched it as he said, “If the child is mine, then perhaps I should take him with me.”

“No!” Thea gasped, and Gabriel stepped in between Matthew and Rawdon.

“You won’t touch that child while I’m still breathing!”

“Really? I would be happy to change that state.”

Matthew, who had been watching the scene unfold before him with wide eyes, started to cry at this last outburst of angry voices. His face screwed up, turning red, and tears gushed from his eyes as he let out a high-pitched wail. Even the two furious men flinched at the sound and turned to look at the boy.

“Now see what you’ve done!” Thea snapped, and went over to take Matthew. “I think it’s time you leave, sir.” She jiggled Matthew and patted his back, murmuring in a soothing voice.

“The hell I will! I intend to find out—”

Matthew ratcheted up his screams a notch, and Thea swung around to face Rawdon, her face fierce. “You are upsetting the baby!”

At that moment, with a loud clearing of a throat, a woman’s voice called across the room, “Excuse me, please!”

Everyone turned to look at the front door. A small woman in a fashionable bonnet and velvet pelisse stood framed in the open doorway. Her hands were encased in a huge sable muff that matched the trim at the neck and cuffs of her coat. She stepped inside, followed by a maid carrying a small case.

“Oh, sweet Christ!” Thea heard Gabriel murmur under his breath.

“Emily,” Ian said weakly.

“I apologize for just walking in, but no one answered my knock.” She glanced around, her eyes widening as they went from Gabriel to Rawdon and then to the baby in Thea’s arms. “I, um, am sorry to interrupt.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Gabriel broke the motionless tableau and stepped forward, saying, “Lady Wofford. Please accept my apologies. Come in.” He made a sharp motion at the footman, still hovering in the far corner of the room, and the man hurried forward to shut the door behind the two visitors, then came up to take Lady Wofford’s pelisse and bonnet.

Without her coat and bonnet and the enormous muff, Lady Wofford looked even smaller—the sort of woman often deemed dainty and the kind who never failed to make Thea feel as if she were looming over her. She was pretty, with eyes of a faded blue and light brown hair, but her much ruffled and beribboned dress and the complicated rolls and curls in which she had styled her hair rather overwhelmed her, making her seem, perversely, less attractive than she was. A tiny frown marred her brow as she surveyed the group before her. Her gaze stopped on Thea and Damaris, and the small frown deepened.

Thea realized with a blush how odd they must all look to Ian’s wife. Gabriel and Rawdon shouting at each other, each of them still wet about the head and shoulders. Her own husband and their friends standing about watching this scene … and, worst of all, two women she did not know, one holding a screaming child, here alone with the men. Thea had little doubt what the other woman would assume about her and Damaris.

“No, please, Lord Morecombe,” Lady Wofford went on with a stiff smile. “It is I who should apologize to you. I know that a wife is scarcely a welcome guest at a man’s hunting lodge.” Her gaze swept down Thea. “Obviously you are engaged in the sort of male pursuits from which ladies are better excluded.”

Thea’s color deepened as a swift rush of anger replaced her embarrassment.

“Not really a hunting lodge, my lady,” Myles said, smiling. “Just Morecombe’s second house.”

“And you are always welcome here,” Gabriel added, though his wooden voice detracted somewhat from the impact of his words.

“Emily, my dear.” Ian moved forward finally. “Of course you are not excluded. Please, allow me to introduce you to our guests. You remember my cousin Miss Althea Bainbridge, don’t you?” He put a faint emphasis on Thea’s last name, the same as his own. “And her friend, Mrs. Howard. Cousin Althea and her brother live here in Chesley, you know. He is the local vicar.”

“Ah. I see.” Lady Wofford’s brow cleared a little, and she gave a carefully measured smile to Thea. “No doubt things are done differently in the country.”

Thea returned the same sort of smile to Lady Wofford and made a brief curtsy. “Yes, I am told that Chesley is a pleasant relief after being in the city.”

“Lord Rawdon.” Lady Wofford’s faint nod served as nothing more than an acknowledgment of the man’s presence.

“Lady Wofford.” He nodded to her, and Thea could not decide which of the two looked haughtier and less giving. Rawdon turned toward Gabriel. “I’m not done here, Morecombe.”

“Alec …” Myles made a casual move that placed him between the two men. “Lady Jocelyn is not here, I swear to you.”

“Jocelyn?” Lady Wofford’s eyes widened. “Jocelyn is here?”