Page 30 of Souvenir of Love

“Come, now, my dear, if we have been on intimate enough terms to have produced a child together, you cannot be shy about baring so innocent a portion of your body as your face.”

The woman shook her head again.

“Perhaps this is a game. Your anger is piqued because it has been so long since we last parted that you have carried and borne a child. My child, I am given to understand. I suppose I am to guess, then, the identity of the lady hidden beneath the cloak.” He began to circle her. “Let me see if I can recall the names of those lovelies who graced my bed last summer and last fall.” He assessed her form, inhaled her perfume. “Too small to be Barbara, too tall to be Jane. Too shy to be Sophie.” He heaved a mock sigh. “Lord knows she was inventive between the sheets.” The figure twitched and he chuckled softly. “Far too impatient to be Arabella.”

He came round to face her. “Alas, I’m afraid I shall need more clues. Shall I inspect the child and see if he, or is it a she, bears the mark of the mother?”

The woman clutched her baby more tightly, and the bundle gave a peculiar howl.

“You are the strangest of callers, my dear. You will not speak, you will not unveil. I doubt you’ve left a card. I am left with but one recourse.” He stepped closer to her.

She stepped back.

“Come, come, you cannot be fearful of me. Of a friendly kiss.” He caught her around the waist and drew her close against his chest. He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her through thefine mesh of her veil. “Just as I suspected.” He traced the shape of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. No taste of champagne and sugar cakes this time, and yet, unmistakable. “The taste of Elizabeth Harcrest.”

She struggled in his arms. The bundle struggled in hers.

It dropped to the floor.

James stepped back, eyes fixed, as the folds of swaddling fell in a heap, from which emerged a stout brown pug. The dog assessed the room with large liquid eyes, then sneezed to make his disgust clear.

“Oh my,” he said. “I should hope our coupling produces more handsome offspring than that.”

“Roland!” Elizabeth dropped to her knees. “Are you all right?” The pug took a step toward her, then sneezed again.

“He appears uninjured.”

Elizabeth glared up at James. “I’ve no intention of coupling with you!”

He put a hand to his heart. “Then I fear it is I, rather than that dog—that is a dog, isn’t it?—who has been wounded.”

Elizabeth rose to her feet. “Of course he’s a dog! He’s Madeleine’s dog,” she said as if that made everything clear. “And you will be wounded for certain if you don’t call off this duel.”

“I have no intention of calling off the duel.”

“But why?”

He looked at her for a long moment. “It’s a matter of honor.”

“Ridiculous. It’s a matter of pride between men. If anyone’s honor is at stake it’s mine, and I’d rather be disgraced than have either of you harmed.”

He smiled, amused. “Most women would be delighted to have two men swinging swords about for the sake of their honor…”

“I’m not most women.”

“So I’m beginning to understand.”

“Then you’ll do it,” she said, her voice rising expectantly. “You’ll call off the duel?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “No.”

“But—” she began.

“Elizabeth,” he said in a tone that demanded she listen. “Your brother has requested satisfaction, and while you may believe it is a matter of pride, I believe it is a matter of honor that I give it to him. Despite what others, and possibly you, may think, I do have a sense of honor.”

“I know that, James. I’ve known you forever. Can’t you just apologize?”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”