Free A Winter Scandal by Candace Camp

That seems a proper name for someone found in a church.”
    “Oh, aye, miss.” Mrs. Brewster cast a glance at Thea and smiled a little. “’Tis a fine name.”
    “What about you?” Thea asked the baby, leaning her forehead against his. “Are you a Matthew?” She had thought more than once before that people said the silliest things to babies. But holding him now, she found herself wanting to do the same. She wanted, she realized, to see that joyous smile again.
    “Here we go. Shall I feed him, miss?” Mrs. Brewster set down the bowl and held out her hands for the baby.
    Thea felt curiously reluctant to hand him over, but she did so. The housekeeper, after all, was far more familiar with this sort of thing than she was. Thea watched as Mrs. Brewster sat the baby on her lap and curved one arm around him, then popped a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. Matthew’s fussing stopped immediately, and he eagerly took a second bite. Thea ate a light luncheon of cheese and bread while the housekeeper fed the baby, then she went up to her room to get a pillow and bedding for the basket.
    With care, she lined the basket with a blanket and sheet to make sure the baby would not come into contact with the rough weave. Then she laid in two well-stuffed pillows, one on top of the other. The light throw she had taken from the foot of her bed would do, she thought, for a cover, in addition to his own little knitted blanket.
    “Why, look at this!”
    Thea turned at the housekeeper’s soft exclamation. Mrs. Brewster was bending over the baby, who was lying in the seat of the chair next to her. He was cooing contentedly as he wrapped his hands around his feet.
    “Look at what?” Thea walked over to them.
    “Well, I decided I’d diaper him with some of that muslin we tore up from your old dress, and look what I found pinned to his swaddling band.” She handed a brooch to Thea and returned to the task of diapering the baby.
    Thea took the brooch in her hand. The small, elegant piece had an oval of onyx with a gold, ornate scrollwork letter M in the center. Thea stared down at the brooch in surprise. She had seen just such a letter M the other night. Lord Morecombe had worn a signet ring with an engraved letter exactly like that.
    Lord Morecombe. In that moment, Thea understood. The beautiful baby was Lord Morecombe’s child. He even had the same little dimple in his chin! Matthew was a by-blow brought here by his mother, doubtless hoping that his lordship would acknowledge him. Had she taken the boy to his lordship and been turned away? Or had she simply left Matthew in the church, hoping that the brooch attached to his clothing would bring him to Morecombe’s attention?
    It certainly was not an uncommon story—a lord who dallied with some girl and got her with child. He went on about his careless, hedonistic way while she was left to face the consequences. Whether a seduced maiden or an immoral drab, the mother was in a terrible position, without the means to support a child if the father did not acknowledge the boy and provide her with funds. If she made it through the difficulties of pregnancy and childbirth, she could not find employment with a baby in her arms. Usually, she had to resort in the end to giving the child to a foundling home.
    And Lord Morecombe certainly fit the part. Thea recalled the reports of his scandalous behavior; the way she had seen him riding home early this morning from what had obviously been a bed other than his own; his sinfully handsome features and devilish smile. He was the kind of man who kissed so many girls at dances that he could not even remember them a few years later!
    Thea closed her hand hard around the brooch, her face setting in grim lines. Lord Morecombe was not going to get away with this.
    She whirled around and picked up her cloak, throwing it over her shoulders and tying it. Mrs. Brewster, who had finished diapering the baby and now sat with him on her lap, looked up in