Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman Read Online Free Page A

weave. . .
    Major Lyons’s eyes widened slightly at that, and his gaze swung back to her. His brow furrowed, and she could see him concentrating, trying to remember what had passed between them. How could he forget? Had he not seen her clearly in the darkness? Had she only imagined that he’d known who she was? She didn’t know if it would be better if he did recognize her as the lady he’d rescued that horrid night. Perhaps there was a mercy in his confusion. She should simply confess everything now, save herself further embarrassment.
    But where to begin? How much to reveal? How much to keep hidden? How much would he deduce by whatever she told him? She had sworn an oath. No matter the price, she intended to keep it until she drew her last breath.
    “Stephen, darling, do come here,” the duchess said, ushering him over to her side.
    He walked slowly, as though even in this great room that was surely familiar to him he was lost, searching for his bearings. She’d seen far too many men with the same haunted quality, the same emptiness of soul in their expression. As though they’d left their essence out on the battlefield and only their bodies had returned. The price of war went far beyond the stores of munitions, food, uniforms, and medical supplies.
    “This is John,” the duchess said softly when he reached her. “Miss Dawson claims he is your son. I can see a resemblance.”
    “I don’t. For one thing I’m considerably taller.”
    The duchess released a small laugh and tears welled in her eyes, as though she’d caught a glimpse of the teasing young man her son had once been. Reaching out, she squeezed his hand. “Is it possible, do you think? That he’s yours?”
    He moved around to acquire a better look at John. With his large hand, he cradled the boy’s head, the pale wispy curls settling softly against his long, slender fingers. Mercy’s heart lurched, swelling with joy and breaking at the same time. How often she had dreamed of him holding his son, but none of her fanciful imaginings had prepared her for the moment of reality, of seeing him touching this precious child. He would recognize himself in the boy. Surely, he would. He would claim John as his, even if he would not offer Mercy the same consideration. For John, she could hold no greater joy than that he be accepted by his father. For herself, she knew it held the potential to have John ripped from her. A bastard child was the responsibility of his mother, but this powerful family could circumvent laws. With the proper amount of blunt slipped into her father’s palm, Mercy would be relegated to a pauper, with the one thing she treasured beyond her reach.
    “Considering my well-earned reputation with the ladies, of course it’s possible,” he murmured. He lifted his eyes to hers, and she felt the full force of their impact as he studied her again. What did he see when he looked at her? Did he see her as she was the night he’d come to her rescue? Or did he see her as she was now? Determined to save the child when she’d been unable to save so many?
    “You must do right by the girl,” his mother said softly. “If indeed, you have no doubt that she has given birth to your son.”
    He would tell them now, would laugh at the ludicrousness of her claim. That a man such as he would ever desire a woman such as her—
    “Of course, I should do right by her.”
    Mercy’s knees shook and turned into jam. She sank into the chair. Had he just agreed to marry her? Surely not. She’d misheard. The Honorable Stephen Lyons, known rake and seducer of women. Major Stephen Lyons, admired soldier who had managed to make every nurse swoon. He couldn’t possibly be seriously considering marrying her with as much ease as he might snap his fingers.
    “Miss Dawson, will you take a turn about the garden with me?”
    “You can’t possibly think I’m going to leave her alone in your company,” her father barked.
    “Walk along behind us if you like,”