Page 41 of The Notorious Lord Sin
Paris listened to them as they shouted out to Joseph in the foyer before another voice caught her attention. She sat up in her chair, ice running down her spine.
"Good afternoon. I'm Lord Astoridge, and you must be Lord Hervey and Lady Maya," the man's voice said.
Her children mumbled something in return that Paris did not make out as she dashed from the library to stop the interaction. She paused at the threshold and watched with a terrifying slowness as Dominic studied Maya more so than Oliver.
His eyes narrowed, and he stood. "Tell me, how old are you, Lady Maya?" he asked.
"I'm five, Lord Astoridge. My brother Lord Oliver is only three," she said, pride in her voice at having been the elder sibling. Normally such a remark would have made Paris smile, but not today.
Dominic met her eye above the children's heads, and she knew to the very core of her soul that he had guessed. How could he not? They were identical but for their age difference.
"It is lovely to meet you both," he said, clearing his throat. "I would like to watch your horse ride one day. I see the stable hands are waiting outside for you both already."
"They are?" Oliver all but shouted. "Come on, Maya, we're wasting time."
The children rushed from the house, and Paris fought to school her features. There was a chance. Surely there was a slim possibility he had not guessed. Maybe he merely felt despondent that she already had a family, and he did not.
He strode into the library, pushing past her, and she knew the little bit of hope she had was futile.
He knew ...
Paris shut the door, hoping to keep the servants from learning her secret. "How dare you?" he said, rounding on her. "So high and mighty, to chastise me of my treatment of you, and all the while you have been hiding my daughter?"
Paris glared, fisted her hands at her sides, and fought not to scream at his audacity. "How dare I, you ask? How dare I sit in the Romney library after giving myself to you, thinking you are going to ask me to marry you and then having my heart broken when you threw me aside like some dirty, worthless wench you had tupped in the East End? How dare I find out weeks later that I was carrying your child and with no idea what to do to save myself? How dare I, you say. How dare you come here, say that to me, and think that is acceptable."
He crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth twisted in anger. "You should have told me. I would have changed my mind about not marrying you."
Paris scoffed, shaking her head. "And have you marry me because you had to? Have you marry me because of your duty? I did not want a marriage to the man I loved to be like that. I wanted you to marry me because you loved me. In a way, I'm glad that I did not tell you, for it enabled me to have a happy marriage. One without guilt, without my husband resenting me for trapping him into the union because of a child. I could not have borne seeing you start to hate me because of a choice we both made, and you would have. You were not ready for a wife. I should never have given myself to you. You were too young, and so was I. I made a foolish mistake, but I turned that error into a wonderful life for Maya and myself, and I will not have you come here and chastise me about it. You have no right."
"I have a right to be part of her life," he said, pointing toward the window.
Paris shook her head. "No, you do not. She has a father, and one she loved very much. You did not want to marry me, and not once did you ask me if a child resulted from our time together. You did not ask because you did not care to know. So do not act all hurt and put out now that you do. I will not stand for it, nor will I allow you to take from Maya what is rightfully hers. She is Lady Maya Hervey, and nothing will change that fact, not even your hurt pride."
Dominic stood before Paris, unable to believe what he was hearing. He was a father? How could he not have known? How could she have kept such a secret from him for so long?
How had you not asked five years ago if she was with child?
Disesteem washed through him that he had not. He should have asked, of course, that was a possibility whenever a man and woman slept together.
He had naively thought that it had not happened to them.
He slumped into the chair behind him and ran a hand through his hair, unable to think straight. He was a father? But his daughter would never hold his name.
A problem that, in truth, was his fault. Had he offered for Paris's hand, none of this would have been a concern. And he could not blame her, not really, for the choices she made. For her hasty marriage to Hervey.
That alone ought to have sparked his interest, especially when he knew he had broken her heart.
"You cannot stay here. You must leave," she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.
He nodded, knowing that was true enough. He had come here to beg for forgiveness, to ask yet again for her to give him another chance. But now? Now he was not sure he could giveherone.
His mind could not comprehend that a little child who looked exactly like him walked but yards from where he sat. The twist of her lips and almond-shaped eyes were identical to his.
It had taken all of his good breeding not to gape at the child. She was a little mirror image. Any wonder Paris did not want a future with him. To have one would mean that he would have to have a relationship with her children, and upon first meeting them, he had been shocked by Maya's likeness to him.
At some point, Paris would have had to explain like he had to explain his lack of blunt. A point neither of them wanted to face, and certainly not own up to.
"You should have told me. I would have done right by you, no matter what you think of me and the actions of my past self. I would have married you had I known. I would never have allowed you to face such a trial by yourself."
