She shook with the realization that he could do that anyway. After they were married, she could do nothing about it. He could hide her away, keep her so close that she would have no life of her own. The shock numbed her.
In her mind she skimmed through the various documents they were to sign. Nowhere did it give her any personal rights. The trust her husband had set up for her would be dissolved, and another take its place with her sons as sole beneficiaries. Guilty after her one night of passion, too focused on her sons to notice any disadvantage to herself, she’d put her foot into the loop that would trap her.
“So I am to have discreet visits to the child?”
Slowly, he got to his feet. “Did you not hear me, madam?” He spoke in a low, menacing voice. “After you give birth, you will never see the child again. Do not fear, I will give you others to take its place. This will be a mistake, something forgotten. You will never refer to it, and neither will I.”
He had made her decision for her. “Then I fear I cannot marry you.”
A burden lifted from her shoulders as she straightened and looked at him. For the first time in weeks she felt herself again. She was Annie Cathcart, ready to face the world on her own terms. She had enough to survive. She would work this out on her own, and bring everything around. Thank God she had not signed anything yet.
“You will marry me.” He glanced around. “If you do not, if you fail to turn up on Saturday, I will evict you from this house. Consider it your notice, madam. You will come to the lawyer’s office on Friday and sign the agreements, then you will marry me on Saturday morning. Do you hear me?” His voice had risen now, his face mottled with fury, and his hands clenched into fists.
“I am not deaf.” She no longer cared if he saw how much she trembled. “I tell you now, I will not be there unless we can come to some agreement.”
“You might not be pregnant,” he said silkily.
Her suspicions coalesced into fact. “I am.” Not that she was completely sure, but she had considered it her duty to inform him once her courses failed to arrive. They had failed to arrive for two weeks now, but there were other signs, too.
“Be there on Friday. We will proceed from there. If you do not arrive at the lawyer’s office, I will find you. Be under no illusion, madam, I will find you, and I will ruin you.”
He left the room without another word. She heard his feet clatter down the stairs, then the doorbell jangled as he left. The door did not slam.
Before the sound had stopped echoing around the house, the parlor door opened and Matilda stood there. One look at Annie’s face and she surged forward to allow Annie to sink into her arms. “Oh, Matilda, I’m in such trouble!” Annie said, before she broke into uncontrollable sobs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THURSDAY ARRIVED ALL TOO SOON and Annie had still not discovered a solution to her dilemma. She felt better, though, because Matilda was firmly with her. “I don’t know what you were thinking, getting involved with Joseph Stephenson,” she’d said. “He’s always been a cold fish, and everybody knows it.”
Yes, he was. Even his kisses had seemed—calculated. Except for a few times when he’d crushed her so hard she couldn’t breathe. He didn’t seem to be kissing her so much as punishing her for something, though she had no idea what that might be.
If she was pregnant, then they would cope. They would go to care for Matilda’s sister, a non-existent entity who lived in a cottage by the sea. Once there, Annie would become Matilda’s sister Caroline, the widow of a soldier.
Her plan was still good, but she’d have someone to help her with the birth and introduction of the new baby to her family. She might even get to see her boys before she gave birth. If they arranged matters right, she need only be away for a month, two at the most.
Fortunately Annie had never suffered during her pregnancies, except for some sickness at the very beginning and the usual aches and pains later on. She could think again, and put her usual pragmatic approach to work.
Like finding somewhere else to live and establish her business. She wouldn’t put it past Stephenson to turn her out of her house and lock it up so she could not get at her machinery. He would make everything as difficult as he could. She’d already apprised her work force of the situation, that she would not be marrying Stephenson after all. They had taken the news stoically, and promised to be on hand on Friday, when her time ran out. They would not let anyone in or out.
She was close to walking the streets looking for premises. Every approach she made to colleagues was met by an apologetic shrug or a blank stare. Nobody had any space to let. Every property in the City of London was fully occupied. Either that, or Joseph Stephenson had let it be known that he would take it amiss if she found somewhere to go.