Stranger in My Arms(85)

Lara smiled sadly as she looked at him. “Did he send you here to say that?”

Young shook his head. “Hawksworth refuses to offer one word in his own defense. He will not confirm or deny his identity, only says that the entire matter must be decided by you.”

“The matter must be settled by each of us adhering to the truth as best we can. All I can do is state my beliefs, whether or not I like the consequences.”

The estate agent’s disappointment was obvious. “I understand, Lady Hawksworth. However, I hope you will not be distressed if Dr. Slade and I lend our support to Lord Hawksworth.”

“Quite the contrary,” Lara said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking. “It would make me happy if you would help him in every way possible, as I am unable to do so.

“Yes, milady.” He gave her a sorrowful smile.

“Please forgive my rudeness, but I must be off now.

I have many tasks to accomplish on Lord Hawksworth’s behalf.”

She stood and gave him her hand. “Do your best for him,” she said softly.

“Of course.” Young frowned regretfully. “The two of you are a star-crossed pair, it seems. I should think you would have every reason to be happy, but fate keeps throwing obstacles in your way. I never dreamed it would all come to this.”

“Neither did I,” Lara whispered.

“I’ve never considered myself a romantic,” he said awkwardly, “but my lady, I do hope that you and he-” “No,” she said gently, leading him to the door.

“Don’t hope.”

The nursery walls were lined with dolls and toys, and hung with pictures of children at play. Lara had tried to make the room a comforting haven for Johnny, but it seemed there was painfully little she could protect him from. She slid a book into its place on a blue-painted shelf, and resumed her seat on the edge of Johnny’s bed.

He seemed absurdly small as he lay back on the pillows, his black hair still damp from his bath. The boy’s reaction to the events of the past few days was almost worse than the tears Lara had expected. He had responded to Hunter’s absence with unshakable solemnity, all of his smiles and boyish energy extinguished. Lara hadn’t explained the specifics of the situation to him, knowing it would overwhelm a child of his tender years. Instead she had told him simply that Hawksworth had behaved wrongly and had been arrested until a judge could sort out everything.

“Mama,” Johnny asked, staring at her with huge blue eyes, “is Lord Hawksworth a bad man?”

Lara smoothed his hair. “No, darling,” she murmured, “I don’t think he’s really bad. But he may have to be punished for some things he’s done in the past.”

“Lord Arthur says they’ll hang him like they did my papa.

“Did he?” Lara asked gently, concealing a flash of anger toward Arthur. “Well, no one knows for certain what will happen until after we’ve met with the lord chancellor.”

Johnny turned on his side, propping his head up on one small hand.

“Mama, will I go to prison someday?”

“Never,” Lara replied firmly, bending to press her lips on his dark head. “I will never let that happen to you.”

“But if I grow up to be a bad man-” “You’re going to be a good, fine man,” Lara said, staring at him intently, filled with tenderness and fierce love. “You mustn’t worry about such things.

We’re going to stay together, Johnny, and everything will be fine.” The boy snuggled into the pillow, his face still grave and uncertain.

“I want Lord Hawksworth to come back,” he said.

Lara closed her eyes, holding back the pressure of sudden tears. “Yes, I know.” After letting out an unsteady breath, she drew the covers up to the child’s narrow shoulders.

Lara arrived in London the evening before the scheduled meeting with the lord chancellor. She had decided to stay in the Hawksworth town house, the Park Place residence where Hunter was being held under guard. The gleaming white town house, fronted by tall bay windows and a classical pediment with four pilaster columns, had been fitted up with elegant and tasteful restraint. The interiors were all wainscoted with gleaming dark oak and painted in soothing colors of stone, beige, and a rich olive that had been invented exclusively for the Hawksworths fifty years earlier. Made by combining specific amounts of Prussian blue and ocher, that particular shade of olive had caused a rage all through England when it had first appeared, and was still widely popular.

Lara was swamped in trepidation as she approached the town house.

The thought of spending the night under the same roof with Hunter, albeit in separate rooms, made her tremble uncontrollably.

She wanted to ask him the questions that had been tormenting her night and day. She wasn’t certain she could bring herself to face him, however. Not without breaking down before him-and the humiliation of that was something she couldn’t live through.

To Lara’s relief, Lord and Lady Arthur had elected to stay in their own London house, preferring its garish familiarity to the Hawksworth address. Quietly she bade the servants to unpack her trunks in her customary bedroom, only to be informed by the butler that the room was already occupied.

“By whom?” Lara asked warily.

“By the dowager countess, milady.”

Hunter’s mother was here? Lara’s lips parted in amazement, and she stared at the butler blankly.