He lay in his bed, his body on fire, his pulse pounding hotly in his veins and filling inconvenient parts of his body. He’d never been celibate for this long, but the only woman he craved was Anne.

  He tried not to think of her full breasts. Her gowns, the same she’d worn for years, fit her differently. Had she put on weight? Her body was lusher than he remembered. Perhaps the family was doing better financially and therefore eating better?

  Whatever the case, he wanted to take her in his arms and feel her curves against him, her ripe full breasts pressing against his chest, his fingers pressing into her soft rounded hips.

  He grew harder just thinking of her. He stared up at the canopy, resigned to rending a little self-satisfaction when an odd sound reached him from the hall. He sat up, considering if he should investigate the sound with his breeches tented as they were.

  Then he heard a soft scratching and his skin prickled. No one should be in the family wing unless they intended to be there. He tossed on his velvet robe and adjusted himself in his breeches. Striding to the door, he didn’t bother masking his footfalls. Whoever may be lurking could scurry away like a mouse if they so choose.

  He opened his door, the little mousy squeak Anne let out startling him just as much as he’d startled her.

  “What the devil?”

  “You frightened me,” she whispered.

  “I’m not the one lurking in the hall in the dark,” he returned. He folded his arms. His arousal redoubled its efforts as the glow from his fire cast light over her. She was in her dressing gown, a threadbare flannel robe that looked invitingly soft to the touch.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked.

  “I didn’t want to disturb his Grace, or your mother, but I thought you might still be awake.”

  “And you needed help?” He needed her to get on with it. His prick was beginning to throb.

  “I couldn’t sleep so I went to check on Bernie. She wasn’t in her room, so then I went to Georgie, who was also absent, and then Jeanette—”

  “Say no more. One moment.” He closed the door enough to adjust himself until his arousal was concealed sufficiently then pulled on a shirt and jacket. He met Anne in the hall with a lit candle, and they journeyed to the main stair.

  “I wanted to be discreet,” she said.

  Roderick smirked. “House parties are meant to invite mischief. Whatever they’re up to, I hope they are enjoying themselves.”

  He could feel her glare.

  “Whatever they are up to, let us hope they aren’t discovered and ruined.”

  “I’d see them married off to whoever helped them drum up the mischief,” he assured her.

  “You mean Bernie? She doesn’t need help.”

  “Proper mischief involves a man and a woman.”

  She harrumphed, and the unfeminine sound did nothing to dull his aching staff.

  They went down the back stairs first and checked a few dark and empty rooms. Roderick had an idea about what the girls could be doing. Knowing the Marsden sisters as he did, he knew he didn’t expect to find any of them skirts-up on a settee, but there were many ways to be compromised by a gentleman.

  They neared the billiard room, and a chorus of gentlemen chuckles and one female giggle made them pause.

  Roderick handed Anne the candle. “Stay here and I’ll investigate.”

  She shook her head, but Roderick raised a brow and she reluctantly nodded in agreement.

  He inched forward then changed his step to a casual stroll as he passed the door.

  “What’s this?” He paused and peered in.

  Four gentlemen and three young women stared back at him. Luckfeld had his arm around Jeanette and appeared to be showing her a trick move with the stick and billiard ball. He released her and stepped back. Roderick grinned.

  Bernie, absent of Chester, was leaning against one wall with a billiard stick in hand and a glass of dark liquid in the other. She tucked the glass behind her back as she met his gaze. Georgette stood next to Cage, but their posture was innocent enough, and Mr. Seyburn and Lord Selhorst appeared overjoyed in Roderick’s arrival.

  “Welcome! Haven’t seen you around this late at all, old man!” Selhorst said. “Do join us. The ladies wanted a lesson, and we were only too happy to oblige.” His tense smile indicated otherwise.

  Roderick raised a brow. “A lesson in billiards? But Bernie has played many times.”

  “Not I, Georgie and Jeanie wanted to improve,” Bernie said. Far too calm for his comfort level.

  “Where’s your nursemaid?” he asked. He half expected Chester to emerge from the shadows.

  “Don’t call him that,” Bernie snapped.

  “I’m only surprised that you made it out of your room without him knowing. Doesn’t he sleep at your door?”

  The gentlemen chuckled.

  Bernie glared at him. “I’d be careful talking like that. He’s more concerned with someone else at the moment and saving her tattered reputation.”

  “Oh, is that jealousy I detect?” Roderick said with a smirk.

  She set her drink down on the table, splashing dark liquid onto the felt. Luckfeld immediately wiped it up

  “We’re done here. Let’s go.” She didn’t look at her sisters but addressed them.

  “But I haven’t had a turn yet,” Georgie said.

  “Another time. I want to check on Anne. Adieu, gentlemen.”

  The four gentlemen bid them goodnight.

  Anne? Roderick’s interest was piqued. “I’ll escort you to your room.”

  “It isn’t necessary,” Bernie said as she pushed past him.

  “Apparently it is if you’ve organized late night illicit billiard lessons for your sisters,” Roderick said.

  “There is nothing illicit about billiards,” Jeanie scoff

  “There is if you’re doing it right,” Roderick replied dryly.

  Bernie paused as she spotted Anne in the hall. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I would ask the same of you,” Anne returned. “I went to check on you and found you missing as well as these two.” Anne glared past Bernie to her other sisters.

  “Well, it’s yourself you should be worried about,” Bernie said.

  “Me?” Anne scoffed.

  Roderick hung back, listening intently.

  “Your penchant for trouble has far exceeded mine, don’t you think?” Bernie accused. “Haven’t you enough noble knights coming to your rescue or have you recruited Roderick too?”

  “Bernadette,” Anne scolded. “What has gotten into you?”

  Bernie folded her arms. “Nothing. I don’t need anyone watching out for me. That is all. Someone should have been watching over you all this time. That is my point.”

  It was dark, but Roderick could sense Anne’s panic. What the devil is Bernie talking about?

  “What are you two fighting about now?” Georgie asked, stepping between her older sisters.

  Jeanie joined her side. “We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves here and meeting new gentlemen.”

  “You’ve met them all before,” Bernie returned testily. “But I haven’t, not without Chester looming over my shoulder.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Anne scoffed. “Is that what you’re angry about? That he offered to—help me?”

  Bernie dropped her arms and fisted her hands at her sides. “I’m angry you needed the help at all, Anne. You, out of all of us, know the dangers we face. And with another baby on the way.”

  “What?” Roderick stepped closer. “Whose baby?”

  Anne covered her face and slumped back against the wall. Bernie faced him, breathing rapidly.

  “Our mother,” Jeanie said.

  All attention turned to Jeanie.

  “Your mother is with child?” Roderick asked for clarification. For a moment he’d thought he’d misheard, and it was one of the sisters who was with child. He relaxed a bit.

  “Father came home while Bernie and Anne attended Violet and Weirick’s wedding,” Jeanie went on. “That’s when it occurred, we think. We’re all surprised, Mother more than anyone.”

  Roderick could only nod in agreement. What could he say? Certainly not congratulations. Not after the hardship they’d endured with a family of eleven, soon to be twelve.

  Who knew Mr. Marsden still had it in him?

  “Well, that’s a bit startling, I should say,” Roderick said at last. “Better than the alternative.”

  “What’s the alternative?” Georgie asked.

  “One of you. That would be quite the catastrophe, wouldn’t it? Can you imagine?” Roderick chuckled.

  Georgie and Jeanie laughed, but Bernie and Anne turned away and walked back into the shadows. Roderick grimaced. They didn’t like his joke one bit. News of their mother’s condition must have been especially hard for them, having tended to so many babies already while only children themselves.

  He wondered how it was even possible that a woman could be barren for—how old was Willa? Ten and seven? And now Mrs. Marsden was pregnant again. Life was strange like that.

  “It’s time to return to your rooms,” Roderick said. “Your sisters have enough to worry about.” He waved them ahead.

  He saw them safely to their rooms, across from Anne and Bernie. Bernie went inside without a word, but Anne waited until they were alone. He came to her side. Clearly, she wanted to say something to him without her sisters present.

  “I’m sorry you got caught up in our argument back there,” she said.

  “I’m sorry you’re in the position you are. I didn’t know about your mother.”

  She swallowed, staring down into the candle she held that he’d given her. “No one does. It’s not a secret, but we don’t speak of it.”

  “I’m certain things will soon improve for your family.” Because you’ll be my wife and I’ll take care of all of you.

  She pressed her lips together in what he thought might have been an attempt at a smile, but it did not enter the realm of smiles. Instead, her expression crumpled to despair.

  She turned to him, a sob catching her throat and pressed her head to his chest. He reflexively moved to hold her. He took the candle and blew it out before setting it on the side table. He embraced her, and she wept quietly onto his shirt, gripping the lapels of his jacket. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to have Anne in his arms again, but he was humbled that she’d turned to him for comfort instead of going into her room to cry alone.

  He opened her door and shuffled them through, closing it softly and standing there, her head still tucked against him. For the life of him he didn’t know what to do, so they stood there, and he ran his hands up and down her back, murmuring reassuring words though he didn’t know if they were the right words. He would offer his handkerchief, but he didn’t have one on him. He cursed himself for being woefully inept at offering comfort to women. All he’d ever had to offer them was pleasure, never comfort, never friendship, but—and this came upon him rather abruptly—he’d given Anne both now.

  Well, look at me. A man can change after all. All I needed was the right incentive, and she’s here in my arms.

  Though he hadn’t imagined her crying when he’d finally proven his worth to her.

  But then again, he knew he’d improved, but did she? Had she noticed the work he was doing to better himself? Did she have any idea that it was all for her?

  She sniffed a couple of times and then took a deeper breath. Roderick brushed her hair from her brow as she looked up at him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to drown you with my tears.”

  “Do not apologize. I’m only glad I was here for you, honored even. I know how strong you have to be for the sake of your sisters, and now with a baby coming it makes sense that you would be overset.”

  She took a handkerchief from the vanity and wiped her eyes and nose. “Um…yes.”

  “Is that what Bernie meant? I thought she said you but I must have misheard. Someone should have been watching over your mother and father?” Roderick asked and then chuckled. “I don’t think anyone could have prevented it from happening. It’s practically a miracle.”

  She sighed heavily, and Roderick feared he’d said something wrong and she might cry again.

  “The outcome will be different this time. One of you, perhaps more than one of you, will marry as a result of this party, and things will be better for everyone. This baby will be a joyous occasion, celebrated even.”

  She looked at him, startled, her eyes wide and filling with tears again.

  Roderick panicked. He took hold of her elbows. “Oh, Anne. Please don’t cry again. I’m such an ass. I didn’t mean to imply that some of your sisters were not celebrated. I’m sure each of them were—”

  She put a hand over his mouth.

  Chapter 21

  Anne couldn’t let him go on. He didn’t know. No one did. It wasn’t until after Jeanie’s birth that all joy had faded from the announcement of another Marsden baby. Her foolish father kept insisting that this time it would be a boy, but it never was. Anne could still recall his pale face as the midwife announced it was another girl. Anne was holding Jeanette, who was a fussy infant, when her father christened the new baby Josette, but Anne could find no joy for her new sisters, no welcoming smile. All she knew was that things were hard already, and now they would be harder. And then Lunette followed, and the twins, Nicolette and Odette, and finally, Willette.

  Then her mother stopped producing children, and it seemed like things would get easier, but they never did. Anne held on to the guilt of that day, the day she’d resented Josette for ever being born, and the guilt only intensified as her resentment grew with each additional sister.

  But what of her baby? Would her child be resented too? Anne had done her best to hide her feelings toward her sisters, and eventually she’d grown to love them and cherish them. They had banded together to care for the household as her father had grown more absent.

  Anne knew she would love her baby, but would her child’s birth be celebrated or shamefully hidden? She regarded Roderick, the unknowing father of her child and wondered what he would feel if he knew. Would he be happy? Angry? Would he celebrate the birth of this child with her? Or resent her and the child?

  She couldn’t allow that. She never wanted her child to be resented for its birth. The baby had no choice, just as her sisters had no choice in their sex and the burden they inadvertently brought to the family.

  And then a thought occurred to her. What if this wasn’t his only child born out of wedlock?

  She had to know. She took a deep breath and forged on, unsure of how she would accept the answer. “Have you… any children?”

  His expression blanked, and then he blinked the confusion away.

  “You’re asking me if I have any illegitimate children?”

  “I was just thinking…” She exhaled. She’d have to give him a reason for her odd question. “When Josette was born I was very angry about it. I love her of course, but for a short time, I resented her. I resented all of them for being born and that wasn’t fair.

  “It sounds horrible to even think it and say it out loud. How can one resent a baby for being born, but people do, don’t they? I confess I’m not happy my mother is with child after so many years. I resent her, and my father too, for not making better choices for our family.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t always had good judgement, but I’ve always been careful not to create any children from my…experiences. No one has ever informed me of any resulting consequences, so I’d say no, I don’t have any illegitimate children.”

  Until now.

  “Would you resent them? Be angry if you found out you did?”

  “The child? God, no. I’d be angry with the mother for keeping it from me. I would want to help care for the child, marry her even, if she would have me.”

  Anne tensed. Should she tell him? Was this the moment? Her heart raced, and her hands grew clammy. She dropped her chin to her chest and bit her lip so he couldn’t read her face.

  “You’re a good man, Roderick. Better than I gave you credit for.”

  “I beg your pardon? What did you just say?” he asked excitedly.

  Anne couldn’t help laughing at his surprised tone. “Lower your voice, if you please. Bernie is next door.”

  “These walls are thick. But I really must have you repeat the words, because I think I’ve died and reached heaven. Did you say that I, Roderick Peter Andrews, am a good man?”

  Anne giggled. “I did.”

  He lifted her off her feet and spun her around, and in the whirl of movement, their lips caught, and they were kissing. Her feet touched the ground, but her heart took flight.

  He pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take advantage. My control slipped for only a moment and I—”

  She pressed a finger to his lips. “It’s all right,” she said. Her heart had jumped to her throat. “I want you to kiss me,” she confessed.

  He bent forward again. Taking her in a sweet but urgent kiss. It reminded her of her dreams where she always felt they would soon be caught, which may very well be true if Bernie decided to burst into her room. But Anne didn’t care because all the reasons why she should or shouldn’t be kissing Roderick flew from her mind. It felt too good to care if it was wrong or right. When he was kissing her, the pressure, the fear of the future slipped away to the back of her mind behind misty clouds of desire.

  His kiss consumed her. She felt light as air as he lifted her off her feet and walked toward the bed. She should have been alarmed, she knew, but her feet hurt and lying down sounded like an excellent idea. Especially if he was with her, and she could rest her head on his broad chest, and he’d hold her all night.

  Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed her eyes closed tighter, willing the tears away.

  But good lord, she loved him. Even with all his faults and his coarse talk. He’d been a lodestar in her life for as long as she could remember, a god-like figure sitting high on Olympus and so far above her. But now he was here, and he’d changed so much in such a little time. It gave her a desperate hope to think that maybe this could be it. She didn’t have to climb a mountain to be with him. He’d come down to her.