Innocence in Regency Society. Diane Gaston

reassuringly, he took his leave.

      Devlin returned to the bedchamber. Madeleine stood beside the bed where the child slept.

      ‘He told you it is hopeless, did he not?’ she said, rubbing her arms.

      Devlin attempted a smile. ‘Indeed, he said no such thing. He gave me the powders and told me how to mix them. He will return tomorrow to see how she fares.’

      ‘She will not die?’ Her voice trembled.

      He walked over to her and gently brushed the hair off her face. ‘She will recover. You are overwrought. Come, sit. I will wager you have not eaten.’ He found a chair and brought it next to the bed. ‘Where did your friend and Bart go?’

      ‘Her name is Sophie, Lieutenant.’ Her voice still shook.

      ‘And mine is Devlin.’ He tapped her nose with his finger. He gazed at the little girl. ‘The child will sleep, I think.’

      ‘Her name is Linette.’

      Devlin touched a lock of the child’s hair. ‘I know.’

      He heard the door open and went into the other room. Bart entered, carrying pieces of wood.

      ‘What’s all this?’ Devlin asked.

      Bart cleared his throat. ‘I took the liberty of procuring a bed for the wee one. A rocking chair, as well. The poor babe needs a place to sleep.’

      Devlin smiled at him. Bart was a practical man. ‘Well done, my friend.’ He had not thought of such a necessity.

      Madeleine stood in the doorway. ‘A bed for Linette?’

      ‘Aye, miss. And a chair to rock her in.’

      The look she gave Bart was almost worshipful. Devlin’s skin grew hot. By God, he was jealous. Of Bart. He wanted Madeleine’s gratitude all to himself.

      ‘Set the bed up in our room for now, Bart,’ he said and received not a glance from her.

      Sophie peered out from the closet where Bart slept. ‘Can I help you, Maddy? What would you have me do?’

      ‘Prepare some food for Madeleine,’ Devlin said. Sophie shrank from his voice, but scurried to do what she was told.

      Devlin sat Madeleine at the small table and took a seat across from her. He poured a small glass of port. ‘This will fortify you a bit.’

      He sat so near to her, Madeleine again became aware of the scent that had surrounded her in his bed. The lines in his face were clearly visible and told of years spent on battlefields. Her heart gave a lurch. He was too much like her dreams.

      ‘Drink,’ he commanded, handing her the glass.

      Madeleine obeyed. The sweet liquid warmed her throat, but Devlin’s solicitude frightened her. The doctor must have given ominous news indeed.

      He continued to speak to her in a kind voice. ‘We will put the child into her bed as soon as Bart has put it together. Sophie can see to the linens. You must try to eat something, Madeleine.’

      Sophie scurried from the scullery. Madeleine sipped her port, keenly aware of Devlin’s eyes upon her.

      Bart announced the bed to be ready, and Devlin accompanied her to the room. She placed Linette gently into the small wooden bed and carefully tucked the linens about her. The child settled, and Devlin took Madeleine’s arm and urged her away.

      When she returned to the table, Sophie put a plate in front of her with a fat slice of bread and cheese. Madeleine ate, because she did not know what else to do.

      When darkness fell, Devlin lit the candles in the bedchamber to dispel the gloomy shadows that had crept into the room. The soft glow of the candlelight illuminated Madeleine, who looked vulnerable as she sat by Linette’s bedside. She had barely moved from the little girl’s side all day, though he could not fault her. Little Linette was an appealing child and it pained him to see her suffering.

      Madeleine glanced at him. ‘Do you go out this evening, my lord?’

      He put his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned over her. ‘My name is Devlin.’

      ‘Very well. Devlin.’ Her eyes drifted back to the child.

      He pulled up a chair next to her. ‘Now, how could I go out when our babe is ill?’

      She gave him a sharp glance. ‘You are not obligated to stay. I would not hold you.’

      ‘Fustian,’ he said.

      She rocked gently. He wished he could convince her all would be well. He’d been trying to do so all day, but she did not believe in reassurances.

      Devlin heard Bart’s deep voice coming from the next room. He smiled to himself. The old sergeant was taken with that mouse of a female. It was amusing. Devlin always imagined Bart would shackle himself to some sturdy country girl to match the farm he used to dream of owning. To make a fool of himself over a wisp of a city chit amused Devlin no end.

      ‘Devlin?’ Madeleine’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘I have never thanked you for…for the doctor and for…allowing us to stay.’

      ‘Deuce, Madeleine. What do you take me for?’ Tossing her out, indeed. ‘Did you think I’d send you back to Farley?’

      She twisted around to face him, alarm lighting her face. ‘You would not!’

      He stroked her cheek. ‘Of course I would not.’

      She turned back to Linette, but her hand went to the place he had touched. Devlin leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its back two legs. ‘How the devil did you come to be at Farley’s? You are too young, surely.’

      She rocked at a faster pace. ‘I am old enough.’

      ‘Nonsense, you are hardly out of the classroom.’

      She tossed him an insulted look. ‘I am eighteen.’

      ‘Eighteen!’ he cried, unbalancing the chair and nearly pitching over. Linette stirred, whimpering.

      ‘Shh.’ Madeleine reached for the child, rubbing her back.

      ‘Good God.’ He lowered his voice. ‘How old were you when you came to him?’ He’d made the computation in his head, but could barely believe it. She’d been so young, and he’d made love to her. How could he have done so?

      ‘I was fifteen.’

      ‘Damnation!’ So painfully young. He had left her there when she was younger than the silly chits making their come-out, the ones he thus far had successfully avoided. ‘The man’s a damned reprobate.’ Devlin had bedded her, as well. What did that make him?

      She gave him a sideways glance. ‘You assume me the hapless victim, Devlin. Don’t make me so good.’

      ‘You did not join him willingly.’ He would not believe it.

      She continued her rhythmic rocking. ‘Is this any of your concern, my lord?’

      ‘Not a whit.’ But that would not stop him. ‘Why did you join that cheating lout, then?’

      She sighed. ‘This is a sordid story. Hardly of interest.’

      ‘Of interest to me,’ he persisted.

      ‘Very well.’ She paused to stroke Linette’s hair. ‘He seduced me. I was ruined. What else could I do?’

      She made being ruined sound like getting a soiled spot on her gown. This was a rum story if ever he heard one. Farley was forty, if he was a day. Seducing a girl of her tender years—abominable. Devlin ought to have rescued her from him back then. Saved her from that abominable life.

      She adjusted the blankets around the child, the candle behind her placing her