The Gift of the Marquess

by Darcy Burke

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. And I know you’re scared. I am too. I’m also thrilled. Gabriel, this is a gift—”

  How was losing her a gift? It was the exact opposite. He backed away from the bed. She made to follow him.

  “Don’t.” He shook his head. “I can’t. You can’t be… No.”

  There would be no happy ending. Just misery and grief. And an empty, gaping hole before him where his beloved wife had been.

  Gabriel turned and fled.

  Chapter 10

  After dozing—to call it sleeping would be generous—on the small settee in his study, Gabriel had taken a ride around the estate. Then he’d gone into the town of Darlington. Now he was back on the estate, having wandered the day nearly away. He squinted up at the sky where the sun had just moved behind a high cloud on its way toward the horizon in just a couple of short hours. The day was cold and breezy, but he felt nothing inside or out.

  Not that he hadn’t felt something.

  Last night’s revelation, that Poppy was going to bear their child, still ricocheted through him. However, after spending most of the night pacing, tossing, and pacing again, he’d come to a sort of numb acceptance. After all, there was nothing he could do about the situation. She was pregnant, and her life was now at risk.

  He blinked, realizing he’d found his way to Dinah’s cottage. A figure walked about the front yard, and he recognized her—because she carried her babe.

  What the hell was she doing?

  Fury and fear unraveled within him, banishing the numbness. He rode to the yard and dismounted, letting his horse graze. Then he stalked toward Dinah, who lifted her head toward him.

  “What in God’s name are you about?” he growled. “You and the babe shouldn’t be out here. You’ll catch your death of cold.” He moved toward her, but she took a step back, her eyes narrowing.

  “We won’t either. I only just came out, and we won’t stay long.” She pursed her lips at him. “I needed a bit of exercise, if it’s any of your concern.”

  He could barely see Nicola’s head amidst the mass of blankets swaddling her, and he supposed she was warm enough. Still, why invite illness? “You must take better care.”

  “I beg your pardon, my lord, but did you stop just to lecture me?” she asked.

  “No.” Maybe? He hadn’t really intended to come here, and yet here he was. Then he’d seen her outside with the babe and…lost what little composure he’d possessed.

  “I notice you haven’t visited at all since Nicola was born.” She squinted up at him. “You don’t like babies?”

  He didn’t know any babies. Why would he? “I’ve been busy.”

  “You weren’t busy before she was born.” She took a deep breath, and her gaze warmed with sympathy. “I know you and Lady Darlington hoped to raise her. I know you don’t have children of your own, and given how long you’ve been married, it seems unlikely you will.”

  Gabriel wanted to laugh, but he feared he would cry instead. “As it happens, Lady Darlington is expecting.” Why had he told her that?

  Dinah’s entire face lit up with joy. “How wonderful!” Then she immediately frowned. “Why has she been upset, then?”

  “What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, though he suspected he knew.

  “Every time she’s visited since Nicola was born, I sense she’s unsettled. Something is bothering her quite profoundly.” She studied him intently. “Are you not aware?”

  “I’m aware.” He exhaled. “It’s my fault.”

  Dinah blinked at him, her lips twisting into a frown. “Then why don’t you fix things? Lady Darlington is one of the kindest, loveliest people I’ve ever met.”

  “It’s rather, er, complicated.”

  “How can that be? If you say her upset is caused by you, uncause it.” The babe stirred in her arms, and Dinah adjusted her hold. “You’re both so lucky to have each other. What I wouldn’t give to have a husband to help me. To support me. To love me.”

  Her words were a series of arrows piercing through his fear and anxiety. Yes, they were lucky. To have each other. And now to have a child coming. God, he was already so in love with him or her, and it would be months and months until he met the child. He just prayed he would get the chance.

  “I’m terrified,” he whispered.

  “Could you be more terrified than a young woman who was attacked by her employer, cast out by him and then her family, and who, without the kindness of strangers, would have birthed her babe in a filthy workhouse or worse?” She made it seem as if he shouldn’t be frightened, but his fear was real and paralyzing.

  “You’re a brave young woman,” he said quietly. “I am a man who expects to lose his wife and likely his child after she gives birth. Tell me, how do I live with that apprehension every day?”

  “You do because the alternative is that you don’t live at all. When I said I would give anything to have what you do, I would take it if even for a short while. Any time is better than none.” She stepped closer to him as the baby began to make soft noises. “Lady Darlington may die, but the odds are against it. Only you can decide if you want to cower in fear or walk straight into the future with courage and purpose. I had no choice, and right now, I can see that was a good thing.”

  She was right. He had a choice. He had the luxury of being a self-centered lout. A wave of disgust washed over him.

  “What will you choose? Fear or joy?” Nicola began to cry, and Dinah excused herself before walking back into the cottage.

  Fear or joy…

  Gabriel conjured an image of Poppy’s belly swelling, of her laughing in the summertime as she stroked the roundness of her midsection. Her dream had come true, and he realized his had too—to see her happy.

  There was no choice to make, not when Poppy was the base of everything he was and everything he wanted to be. Gabriel strode to his horse and quickly mounted. He raced back to the stables and dashed into the house in search of his wife.

  “She’s already left for the assembly, my lord. Lord and Lady Buckleigh came and conveyed her to Hartwell.”

  Bloody, bloody hell. “Walker, I’ll need a bath.” Gabriel ran upstairs, intent on the fastest toilet of his life. He had to pursue his wife.

  And joy.

  The assembly dripped with pine boughs and ribbon. Lanterns flickered, and mistletoe hung in the corners. Arrack punch, like the kind they served at Vauxhall in London, graced the refreshment table, as did a variety of sweet confections. A huge blancmange in the shape of a Yule log and decorated with pine sat in the center.

  The scene should have filled Poppy with cheerful expectation. But without Gabriel at her side, she felt sad. Particularly since this assembly was where they’d met three years before. Being here without him didn’t feel right. In fact, she’d almost decided not to come, but Bianca and Ash had already been en route to fetch her, and she didn’t want them to have gone out of their way for nothing.

  So she’d pretended to be happy and made up a story about Gabriel being ill.

  “There’s Felicity,” Bianca whispered, inclining her head toward a tall blonde woman garbed in a blue gown.

  Poppy picked Felicity out of the crowd. “Should we go and speak with her?”

  “Of course.” Bianca took Ash’s arm, and the three of them crossed the assembly room to where Felicity stood with her mother. Mrs. Templeton looked a bit frail. She clung to her daughter’s arm.

  “Come, Mama. You must sit. Otherwise, I will rethink my decision to allow you to come. You are still recovering.”

  “Oh, pooh. I’m fine, dear. But yes, a chair would not come amiss.” Mrs. Templeton smiled up at her daughter and the change in her expression made her look much more robust, if that were possible.

  Felicity saw them then, her green eyes lighting with recognition. “Good evening, Lady Darlington and Lady… Buckleigh, is it?”

  “Yes,” Bianca answered. “Allow me to present my husband, the Earl of Buckleigh. Ash, this is Mrs. Felicity Gar
land.”

  Ash inclined his head. “Of course I remember you, Mrs. Garland.”

  Felicity rose from her curtsey with wide eyes. “Ash, as in little Ashton Rutledge? I would not have recognized you.”

  “None of us did,” Bianca said with a laugh.

  “How marvelous to see you all.” Felicity glanced around. “Where is your brother? I’ve yet to encounter him since I returned to Hartwell.”

  Poppy and Bianca exchanged a wary look. “I doubt he’ll be here this evening,” Poppy said smoothly. “He’s not very social these days. The dukedom keeps him quite busy.”

  “That’s too bad,” Felicity said. “I’d looked forward to seeing him. I suppose I’ll just have to pay a call.”

  Bianca’s gaze snapped to Poppy, and she opened her mouth. Poppy worried that nothing helpful would come out, so she rushed to say, “Perhaps send him a note asking when he receives visitors.” She added a placid smile.

  Ash sucked in a breath, his eyes fixed on the entrance. “He’s here.”

  All four women turned their heads to see Calder standing just inside the threshold. Indeed, a hush fell over the entire assembly.

  Calder surveyed the large room, his gaze moving quickly until settling on them. No, not on them. On Felicity Garland. He strode toward their group, and the crowd magically parted as if he were an ancient river carving its way through a hillside.

  “Good evening,” he announced as he arrived, standing next to Poppy.

  “Good evening,” Poppy said, eyeing him with disbelief. He was garbed in unforgiving black save his white shirt and cravat. Gentlemen typically dressed up their assembly attire with something festive. Calder did not.

  Felicity curtsied and helped her mother do the same. “Your Grace, I was just telling your sisters how I looked forward to seeing you.”

  “Did you? How surprising after all this time.” Calder’s voice carried an edge—not the same obnoxious tone he’d had of late. This was something different, something that cut far deeper.

  “Yes, it’s been many years,” Felicity said. “I do hope we’ll find time to visit. If you’ll excuse me, I need to see my mother to a chair.”

  It was a perfect invitation for Calder to step forward and offer to help. Given how he’d immediately spotted Felicity and walked straight to her, Poppy would have expected him to provide assistance. Instead, he stood there, his gaze cold as he regarded her mother.

  “Allow me to help,” Ash said, presenting his arm. He sent a glance toward Calder as Mrs. Templeton accepted his assistance.

  “Thank you, Lord Buckleigh.”

  “I’ll be right there, Mama,” Felicity said. She watched as they walked away, then looked to Calder.

  “Why are you here?” he asked sharply, his voice low so that only the four of them could hear.

  Poppy suddenly felt as though she and Bianca were intruding. She edged close to her sister and grazed her elbow against Bianca’s arm.

  Felicity drew back, her features tightening with confusion. “Everyone comes to the assembly.”

  Not everyone. Poppy was painfully aware of her husband’s absence, particularly now that Calder of all people was here.

  “Not here at the assembly, here in Hartwell.” There was an accusatory note to his statement. Poppy tensed.

  “My mother returned last year, and several weeks ago, she became ill. I came to take care of her.”

  “So your visit is temporary.”

  She narrowed one eye at him very briefly. “I haven’t yet decided.” Casting a smile toward Poppy and Bianca, who’d linked arms, Felicity continued, “I’m especially glad to be here for the holidays. No one celebrates better than the people of Hartwell. I am so looking forward to St. Stephen’s Day, but I was sad to hear Hartwood would not be hosting the event. I’d feared you were ill.” She regarded Calder closely as if she could discern some sort of malady.

  Would that she could, for there was absolutely something wrong with him. This was not their brother!

  “I am not, as you can see.”

  “You don’t appear to be, and yet you aren’t quite the man I remember.” Felicity shook her head. “But then it’s been over a decade.”

  “Yes, people change over time. And some people change overnight.” Calder gave Felicity a haughty stare. “I’m not sure the woman I remember ever existed.”

  Oh dear, this was not the place to have such a conversation. Poppy moved toward her brother, reaching for his arm. “Calder, perhaps we should—”

  He swung his gaze toward her, glowering. “Don’t touch me. I will say what I like.”

  “Not to my wife, you won’t.” Gabriel inserted himself between Calder and Poppy. She stared at him, shocked he was there. She’d been so intent on her brother that she hadn’t noticed his entry. Glancing about, she realized the entire assembly was focused on Calder.

  “Calder, you’re causing a scene,” Poppy whispered.

  Calder’s gaze darkened, and his lip curled. Before he could speak, Gabriel edged toward him. “Careful, Chill, don’t let this scene escalate into something else.”

  Calder glared at all of them, but his most hateful stare went to Felicity. “I’ve come to see what I needed to. And now I am free.” He spun on his heel and stalked from the assembly.

  Bianca smiled broadly and looked urgently at Poppy and Ash, her eyes asking them to join her in appearing pleasant. As if their brother hadn’t just behaved like a horrendous boor in the middle of the holiday assembly.

  Except Poppy couldn’t quite bring herself to do anything but stare at her husband. He was here.

  Gabriel turned to her. “I didn’t mean to drive him away.”

  “It was for the best,” she said.

  He offered her his arm. “Shall we take a turn?”

  She ought to introduce Felicity and ensure the situation was truly settled, but she was too wrapped up in wanting to know why Gabriel had come. Wordlessly, she put her hand on his sleeve, and he led her to the periphery, where they began a promenade around the hall.

  He spoke first. “I’m sorry. That I wasn’t at home when you left for the assembly. That I’ve been distant and self-absorbed. That I reacted like an idiot when you told me about the babe.”

  Her heart leapt, and she squeezed his arm. He steered her into a corner, well away from anyone else.

  She turned toward him, standing close, her eyes searching his face. “You were scared.”

  “There is no past tense.” His tone was dry, and she was so grateful for even a modicum of humor. “I am terrified, but I am also overjoyed. I realized I prefer the latter, so I’m going to focus on that.”

  “You ‘realized’?”

  “I might have had some help from Dinah. Perspective is a powerful thing.”

  “It is.” She rested her palm on his lapel. “So is sadness and fear. I know what that feels like,” she said softly.

  “Of course you do, my love. We are on this journey together—for better or worse. I think we are both due for some of the better.” His mouth ticked up, and her heart somersaulted.

  “I think so too. I promise I won’t die. And neither will the babe.” She touched her other hand to her stomach.

  His smile took on a sad tinge, but only for a moment. “You can’t promise that. However, I believe everything will work out as it should, and I plan to spend every day basking in the love we share and the joy of thinking about tomorrow.”

  “Even if that tomorrow doesn’t come?” She almost wished she hadn’t asked that. He’d come so far already.

  “But it will, whether we want it to or not, whether we are here or not. So why not plan for the best?” He winked at her. “I’m still working on this, so bear with me.”

  She grinned up at him. “As you said, it’s a journey. I will be with you every step of the way.”

  The first strains of music started. “Speaking of steps,” Gabriel said. “I believe it’s time for you to dance with me.”

  A laugh bubbled up from deep
inside her. “That’s what you said to me three years ago—you didn’t really ask. I thought you were so arrogant.”

  “It was all bluster.”

  “It worked.”

  “If I’m correct, there was also a bit of mistletoe involved.” He waggled his brows at her.

  She glanced up. “Look.”

  Hanging above them was a bouquet of mistletoe.

  “I didn’t kiss you three years ago.”

  “You couldn’t. And you shouldn’t now.”

  “Hmm, this seems like a question of perspective. For me, I have no problem kissing you here.”

  She giggled. “Then who am I to quarrel?”

  He bent down and brushed his lips over hers. “Consider that a prologue to the story I’ll tell you later. Now, let us dance.”

  As Gabriel swept her into his arms on the dance floor, an encompassing joy washed over her. This was a holiday season she would never forget.

  Epilogue

  August 1812

  * * *

  Poppy’s anguished cries filled the chamber. Gabriel had weighed whether to be present for the birth, and now he was beginning to question his decision.

  “There’s the head!” Dr. Fisk called.

  Mrs. Fisk looked up at Poppy with warm encouragement. “One more push now, love.”

  Red-faced, Poppy bore down. She squeezed Gabriel’s hand so hard, he feared it would never have blood flowing through it again.

  But he’d give up anything for her, including his hand.

  “Please let her be all right, please, please, please.” The silent plea played over and over in his mind, a chorus of hope.

  A loud squall filled the chamber. Poppy exhaled loudly, and her grip on his hand finally loosened.

  “We have an heir,” Dr. Fisk said, grinning. He glanced over at Gabriel as he handed the babe to Mrs. Fisk. She did something with him, but Gabriel’s attention was entirely focused on the exhausted but beaming face of his wife.

  She looked up at him. “Did you hear that? You have a son.”