Page 9 of Once a Scoundrel

The last thing he needed for this conversation was an audience. He held out his hand. “Come down into the garden with me where we can talk in private.”

Eyeing him apprehensively, as if he were the devil himself, she stepped back to put even more distance between them. Each step clawed at him. “I need to return inside. I’ll be missed and—”

“Come down into the garden with me, Faith,” he repeated, this time much more deliberately, wishing he could make her understand through sheer will the importance of what he wanted to tell her.

She froze, and a new wariness swept over her face. She parted her lips as if to say something, then shook her head and turned toward the house.

He grabbed her arm from behind and stopped her. For a moment, he half-expected her to yank free and slap him, at the very least to storm away—instead she stilled, every inch of her tensing like a coiled spring.

“Just down the steps to the edge of the lawn,” he explained in a low voice at her ear. “Close enough to the house to be proper but where we can talk without being overheard.” When she hesitated, he drew a deep breath. “You asked about those rumors, the ones which claim I have a mistress and a son. I want to tell you the truth.”

She asked bluntly, “Have you placed that woman into one of your properties?”

“Yes,” he admitted, not having a choice. That was easy enough to prove. All she had to do was check with anyone at Elmhurst Park to learn that Mary was living there.

“Then I don’t need to know anything more.”

When she started to walk away, he tightened his hold on her arm and held her in place.Damnation.They hadn’t even started into the discussion they needed to have, and already he was mangling this. Badly. He took a deep breath and tried again. “Her name is Mary Halstead, and I want to explain about her.”

Refusing to look over her shoulder at him, her eyes gazing straight ahead, she said quietly, “The rumors say that she’s the daughter of an East India official in Calcutta.”

“She is.”Was.

“That you met her in India.”

“Yes.”So did Daniel.

“And that you’ve given her money and clothing, established a household for her—”

“That’s no one’s business but mine,” he interrupted. Those rumors, too, couldn’t be denied.

A knowing flicker of betrayal darkened her face. “That sounds to me exactly how a man would refer to his mistress.”

“She isn’t my mistress!” he ground out, far too loudly, and drew the attention of the nearest couple, who sent them curious looks before moving further down the terrace.

“Then what is she to you?” she pressed.

He clenched his teeth at the distrust in her voice. “A good woman who doesn’t deserve to be disparaged.”

She turned her head to look at him. Accusation blazed in her eyes. “What is she toyou,Stephen?”

Good Lord. Even Faith believed the gossip over his word. He’d come here to set everything to rights with her, but he didn’t realize until that moment how hard it was going to be. “She’s a friend in a difficult situation, nothing more.”

She lowered her gaze and said quietly, “She has a child.”

“Yes. His name is Jeremy.” Anticipating her next question, he drawled, “He isn’t mine.”

She hesitated, as if to say something about the boy—then shook her head instead. “It doesn’t matter.”

More than she realized. “The boy’s father was a soldier in India,” he continued carefully, dancing as close to the truth as he dared until he could gauge her reaction. Knowing Faith as he did, it was best to ease into it. “He was killed, and Mary was left with nothing. I made certain she had safe passage back to England and someone with her while she had the baby. They’re living under my care at Elmhurst Park.” He felt compelled to add, “Temporarily.”

“But why would you do that? Surely, her own family would have taken her in, or her husband’s family would—”

“She has no one but me,” he bit out, once more chafed by the situation in which Mary had been thrust.

And him right along with her.

If not for Mary and Jeremy, he could have quietly returned to England. He could have started his new life with a clean slate and proven to everyone—andespeciallyto Faith—that he’d truly changed. That he was no longer a scapegrace but a respectable man. Instead, every step he took was an uphill battle.