An Improper Proposal (The Distinguished Rogues Book 6) Read Free

but the birth was very hard on her. More so than I realized.” Mrs. Hughes glanced down at her hands.
    Martin sank onto a chair, horrified that Vivian had died giving birth to another’s offspring.
    The housekeeper cleared her throat. “The child thrives. Lord Fallon has done all he can for my mistress but once he saw the babe, he washed his hands. The girl has none of his features. Now that I see you again, I am more certain than ever that she is your daughter.”
    It took a moment for Martin to gather his struggling wits to realize the woman believed him to be the child’s father. He put his hands on his head and dug his fingers into his skull as shock swept over him. He’d always feared any child of his would be too large for a woman to bear easily, so in bed he played other sorts of games to avoid pregnancy in his partners. He’d always been careful with Vivian. Or so he’d thought until now.
    Given the way she waited silently, Mrs. Hughes wanted an admission from him too. But that was impossible. He’d seen no hint of Vivian’s condition during their last discussion. He could not believe that in her anger, in the volley of spiteful words that had been flung at him during their last meeting, that she could have held that back. Had she believed, hoped, the child belonged to Fallon? “I want to see the babe.”
    “Of course, my lord. Let me fetch her.”
    While Mrs. Hughes was gone, Martin paced the darkened sitting room. Was it a trick, a scheme to foist a child onto him to raise as his own? He’d certainly heard of it happening before and it always caused a scandal for the men involved, and their families.
    He tugged the drawn drapes open, determined not to be tricked into anything. Crying alerted him that the child was drawing close. He faced the doorway as Mrs. Hughes stepped into view, attempting to soothe the babe with soft, ineffectual words.
    Wrapped snugly in a black shawl, the child’s red face was the only piece of her visible.
    Mrs. Hughes stopped before him. “The child has no name.”
    The woman held the bundle out to him and he immediately placed his hands behind his back. He stared at the child with no name and no mother, struggling to see a resemblance to his former mistress. In her distress and agitation, the child wriggled and a lock of dark hair peeked below the shawl. Fallon had been fair, if memory served.
    Mrs. Hughes pressed the child against his chest and he had no choice but to capture her. A trickle of sweat ran from his temple. However much he tried not to show it, he was utterly terrified that he would crush her. “She’s heavier than I expected a newborn to be.”
      “She was born large. The largest babe I’ve ever beheld.” Mrs. Hughes urged him backward when the child continued to cry. “Perhaps you should sit, my lord.”
    Martin sank into the chair gratefully, babe held carefully to his chest. It was a little better to be sitting. Safer for the girl. If she squirmed out of his arms, she would not have far to fall into his lap. He adjusted his grip a little tighter, determined that would not happen.
    “Perhaps this way might be easier.” Mrs. Hughes took the crying child back momentarily then placed her lengthways over his knees.
    Martin squeezed his thighs tightly together, forming a solid platform for the wailing child to rest upon. He placed one hand on her midsection and, to his relief, she quieted a little. He exhaled. “Is that better?”
    Her crying spluttered to hiccups.
    He had no experience with children but thought that reaction boded well. “You are wise not to trust me. Not with my track record. A little thing like you would be so easily damaged.” She could almost fit inside his two hands too. He glanced at Mrs. Hughes briefly. “What will be done with her?”
    “That is for you to say.” Mrs. Hughes perched on a chair opposite him. “My mistress had no family, as you must know. This little angel is all alone in the world.”
    “A bleak picture