The Duchess in His Bed

by Heath Lorraine

  Sadness because Aiden wouldn’t be with her when the child was born. That his moments with his progeny would be short and infrequent.

  As her body began swelling, she would have to stop going to the club. She couldn’t risk being seen there in her condition. If some of his customers were hinting that they thought he’d taken a mistress, it wouldn’t do at all for them to realize that mistress was pregnant. Even if they weren’t sure it was her, if it caused the tiniest of speculations—she couldn’t risk their association being discovered.

  They would have to make other accommodations.

  The price of what they’d done suddenly seemed far too high. When she had set out on this mission, she hadn’t expected to fall in love.

  She arrived at the bookshop without her sisters. She’d considered sending a missive with their regrets, but in the end, she wanted to see the shop all put together, wanted to see Aiden in a setting other than a bedchamber.

  After much thought, she decided she couldn’t be certain she was with child. She would give it another week, perhaps two, before calling upon her physician to solicit his opinion on the matter. Then she would decide her course of action.

  For now it was enough to see him waiting for her outside the shop, the sight of him always bringing her a kick of joy, joy that increased as he opened the door and closed his fingers around hers, assisting her out of the carriage. How many times had he handed her up or down? Not nearly enough.

  “Is something amiss? You seem a bit pale.”

  “I’m perfectly fine. My sisters are unwell, however. They send their regrets.”

  Concern narrowed his eyes. “Is it contagious?”

  “No. They’ll be right as rain in a day or so. Can we take a stroll through your sister’s shop now?”

  “By all means.” He tucked her hand within the crook of his elbow. The familiarity of it after such a short time was astounding.

  But then everything about their relationship seemed to have happened at breakneck speed, as though they’d been sitting astride a runaway horse. Never had so many varying emotions pummeled her as they did now. A mixture of joy and sadness, a need to hoard away memories.

  Inside the shop, she took comfort from the musty aroma emanating from the books stacked neatly on the beautifully carved bookcases.

  Fancy hurried over to her, curtsied. “Your Grace, I’m so glad you were able to come by for a peek.” She glanced past Selena, her delicate brow furrowing. “Your sisters—”

  “Are indisposed. They send their apologies, but as their mourning period is not as long as mine, I’m certain they’ll pay a visit at the appropriate time.”

  “I look forward to welcoming them. We already have the punch set up if you’d like some. Mick has asked his hotel chef to prepare us some tea cakes, but they won’t be here for a while yet.”

  “I’d actually just like to wander about.”

  Aiden strolled with her as she wended her way among the bookcases, touching a spine here and there, imagining all the various worlds into which a person could escape. Eventually they made their way upstairs. Flowers had been added to the sitting areas, making them appear cozier. All the shelves on either side of the fireplace were crammed with books, but it was what hung above the mantelpiece that snagged her attention, and like someone caught in a trance, she floated toward it, captivated. The painting depicted a young woman lounging on a settee, reading a book, a stack of tomes scattered on the floor about her. While her face was muted and soft, the lady was obviously Fancy. “You created this, capturing Fancy’s love of reading.”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. She recognized his handiwork, the care that went into it, the love he delivered with every brushstroke. “I think you could make a fortune as an artist.”

  “Its value comes from the pleasure it brings me.”

  And that it brought others.

  To her left, near a window, was the nook Fancy had designed as an area for children to read. On the wall were other paintings, smaller ones, seemingly arranged haphazardly. As she neared, she laughed at the sight of a cat, dog, hedgehog, dormouse, unicorn, and mermaid reading, each in their own little world, their own individual frames. He had told her he painted from memory, but it was also obvious he had quite the vivid imagination. “You created these as well. Who’d have thought Aiden Trewlove had a bit of whimsy to him?”

  Turning, she smiled, touched to see his cheeks darkening with the heat of embarrassment. “Is that the reason you don’t sign them? So people won’t realize you possess a tender heart?”

  “I don’t do them for the acclaim, so I don’t see any need to put my name to them. They’re just a bit of fun.”

  But they were so much more. Just as he was.

  “They’re going to delight the children.” And she couldn’t help but wonder if he would create flights of fancy for his own offspring—and stopped herself from going further and contemplating what the woman who gave them to him would be like. If they continued to see each other, she couldn’t give him any more children. They would have to return to using the sheaths. But eventually, he might want a real family that he didn’t have to hide away.

  He merely shrugged. “Walls weren’t meant to be bare. I painted some pictures for Gillie’s pub.”

  “Mermaids and unicorns?”

  He grinned. “Of course. So I couldn’t very well not paint something for Fancy.” He stepped nearer, trailed his finger along her chin. “I should paint something for you. What would you like?”

  A portrait of you. A miniature. Something she could put in a locket and keep near her heart. “I don’t know. I’ll have to think on it.”

  “I’m glad you came this afternoon. I enjoy seeing you away from the club.”

  It made their being together seem of a greater purpose.

  “I wish I could do more with you,” he said quietly.

  “Widows aren’t allowed to give out or accept invitations, not for a year. It wouldn’t do for us to be seen gadding about.”

  He moved nearer, his legs brushing against her skirts, his hand folding around her neck, his fingers skimming along her spine at her nape. “I’ve been trying to think of someplace I could take you.”

  “Like the theater? Have you ever been to a play?”

  “Once. When I was younger, about twelve, we all saved up and took our mum to a play on Drury Lane. I enjoyed it, but not enough to spend my coins on it again. At least not then. I could take you to a penny gaff. It’s unlikely any nobs would be there.”

  “But we can’t guarantee some young lord isn’t up to some mischief.”

  “No.” He lowered his lips to the underside of her jaw, and with a sigh, she dropped her head back. “There was a time I could have taken you to Gillie’s pub but now that she’s married to a duke, lords are always dropping by.”

  “A pity.”

  “I can’t take you on a stroll through a park. It seems all I can do is take you to bed.” Regret and sorrow laced his voice.

  Guilt pricked her conscience because she couldn’t offer him more.

  Chapter 22

  A little over two weeks later, Aiden strode into his private chambers and saw Lena gazing out the window, a subdued excitement vibrating off her. They had settled into a routine: she’d let herself into his lodgings and a footman would discreetly alert Aiden to her arrival. Shortly thereafter, he would join her here. Sometimes they’d have dinner and share stories from their day or he’d tell her about changes he was planning for the club or she’d share the gossip an occasional visitor brought her.

  He wanted to expand their world beyond these chambers, but he was very much aware that even if her mourning period didn’t dictate their seclusion, her disgrace at being seen consorting with him would.

  Three of his siblings had landed themselves noble spouses, but none of them had families dependent upon them maintaining a reputation above reproach. None of them had sisters whose future well-being and prospects for a good marriage could be destroyed
because of their choices. None of them had stared at the possibility of losing so very much.

  As he neared, she turned away from the window and gave him a tremulous smile, tears welling. “I’m with child.”

  Having been with her every night with no impediments to their lovemaking surfacing, he wasn’t taken by surprise, didn’t ask if she was certain. Still her words slammed into him with the force of a hard punch to his solar plexus, making it impossible to draw in air, and without thought, he dropped his gaze and flattened his palm against her belly as though he’d be able to feel movement, could connect with the babe that was growing inside her, had probably been doing so for close to a month already. It was difficult to believe she’d been in his life for not much longer than that when each night spent with her seemed unlike any that had come before.

  She placed her hand over his. “I’ve suspected for a couple of weeks now but was afraid to get too hopeful. The physician confirmed it this afternoon. I’d always feared I was barren. That it was my fault Lushing had no heir.” A sob escaped and she pressed her fingers to her mouth. “I’m so happy.”

  He drew her into his arms, held her near, wondered if she could hear the thudding of his heart as joy spiraled through him. The elation was unexpected, but he found he wanted to shout from the rooftops that this remarkable woman would be bringing his child into the world. And yet the world must never know. And just like that, the bubble of gladness burst as reality demanded acknowledgment.

  “Then why the tears?” He was pleased his voice came out strong and clear, in spite of the knot in his throat that was threatening to strangle him. This bairn would secure Lena’s place among the aristocracy, would ensure she could see her sisters well situated. She would raise the child at Sheffield Hall. Aiden could never give her so fine a residence, an estate, no matter how full his coffers.

  “Women weep when they’re happy.”

  “Have you told anyone?”

  “No, not yet.” Leaning back, she held his gaze. “I wanted to share the news with you first. But I will have to make an announcement very soon to lessen any doubt that this babe is Lushing’s.”

  He’d gone into this scheme knowing the terms, and yet it was more difficult than he’d expected to relinquish his fatherhood, to be reminded that this child would never know the true circumstances of how he’d come to be. He’d never know that he’d been conceived in love and sacrifice.

  Breaking away from him, she returned to the window and gazed out. “This child will gain so much. We will hold on to everything. My sisters will benefit.” She faced him. “Our place in Society is assured. They will marry well. But they’ll never know how much they owe to you. And that I regret.”

  “I didn’t do it for their damn gratitude.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  Because I love you. Because you asked it of me. He shrugged. “I appreciate a well-executed dodge. For the estates this child will inherit, and if it’s a boy for the titles as well. And it certainly wasn’t a hardship to have you in my bed. But I’ve served my purpose. It’s time for our association to come to an end.”

  Her brow wrinkled as though she could sense that he was distancing himself, building a wall around his heart. He hadn’t expected it to go up so quickly.

  But he’d come to understand that they could not continue as they had been: living in a narrow world that only encompassed the two of them, keeping to the shadows. While he thrived in them, it was no life for her. She deserved nights at the theater, waltzing in glittering ballrooms, drives through the park with a man beside her who brought her pride. Not one who catered in sin.

  He finally understood why Finn had risked so much for Lavinia, had dared to love a girl who could bring him naught but heartache. For as bitter as the pain was, there was a sweetness to it as well in knowing that he was capable of such depth of emotion. Yet he knew he would never feel for another what he felt for Lena. And because of how much she meant to him, he knew he had to let her go now, before she was swelling with a bairn he could never publicly acknowledge. Each passing night would only make it more difficult to do what must be done for the good of all: walk out of her life.

  “No.” She cradled his jaw. “We agreed to continue to see each other.”

  “Are you going to march down the stairs without wearing a mask? Are you going to stroll through the gaming floor at my side with your features on display for all to see?”

  “Well, no, of course not. I’m not even two months a widow yet. I can’t have people thinking I turned to you within days of my husband’s death. But perhaps in two or three years—”

  Always there would be a dishonesty to their public relationship, a hiding of the truth. Always he would need to protect her and his child from gossipmongers. Holding her hand against his jaw, he turned his face into it and pressed a kiss against the palm that had caressed him so lovingly and would never do so again. “It’s been fun, sweetheart, but we both knew it was only for a short time, and that added to the thrill. From experience I know boredom is a mere short distance away. You were fooling yourself if you thought otherwise.”

  “You can’t mean that.” Jerking her hand out from beneath his, she appeared stricken, and he wondered if he could locate someone to flay his back before dawn, even as he knew turning her away unmercifully was the kindest thing he could do.

  “I’ll want to see the child, of course. In secret.” Always in secret because they couldn’t risk anyone noting any similarities in appearance between the twelfth Duke of Lushing and a man who owned a gaming hell and a notorious club that catered to women’s fantasies. “We’ll work out the details later. Send word when you’ve given birth.” He was amazed by how cool he was able to keep his tone when everything inside him was being shredded into useless bits.

  Fire burned in her eyes. He preferred the fire to the sorrow, knew she would find the strength to move forward. It was one of the reasons he loved her. She would not be cowed or deterred. “It seems I misjudged you, Aiden Trewlove.”

  “More’s the pity. I’ll walk you to your carriage.”

  “Don’t bother. I can see myself out.”

  Her strides were filled with purpose, her arms swinging with her righteous anger.

  “Lena?”

  She stopped but didn’t look back at him, and he admired her restraint, her fury. “Find a man who loves you.”

  “I thought I had.”

  She jerked open the door and gave a startled yelp. His floor boss was standing there, his fist raised as though he were in the process of knocking.

  “What the devil is it, Toombs?” Aiden barked.

  “There’s a woman to see you, sir. I escorted her to your office. She’s waiting for you there.”

  Lena swung around and skewered him with her gaze as though his man had just delivered evidence of his unfaithfulness to her. “Have her return in the morning. I’ll see her then.”

  He wasn’t in the mood for a meeting with some high-bred woman wanting her daughter escorted out should the young chit visit.

  “She says she’s your mother.”

  Alarm spread through him. His mum never came here, didn’t completely approve of the place. He was charging through the doorway before Lena continued her journey through it. “Escort the lady out,” he told Toombs as he edged past him.

  “I don’t need—”

  But Lena’s words trailed away as he rapidly put more distance between them. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. His mum wouldn’t be here otherwise. A dozen scenarios went through his mind, all involving his siblings and a dire accident.

  He rushed into the room and staggered to a stop. It wasn’t his mum. It was Lady Elverton, sitting in a chair near his desk. Her face was pale and clammy. She seemed to be trembling. An awful stench was on the air, and he noticed the bin he normally kept behind his desk was resting near her feet. “Lady Elverton, are you ill?”

  “My apologies, but it appears something at dinner did not agree with me. I began to feel unwel
l on the journey here, but it seems to have arrived with full force.”

  He neared and gently wrapped his hand around her upper arm. “Allow me to assist you to your coach. We can talk another time.”

  She clutched his hand, tugging until he lowered himself. “I can no longer live with the guilt. Please forgive me.” Reaching up with a shaking hand, she touched his cheek. “You are my son.”

  It seemed to be a night destined to bring punches to his gut that threatened to bring him to his knees. He was a man skilled at transferring images to canvas, attentive to the smallest of details. He’d noticed similarities between them before but had discounted his findings as those of a man who longed to know the truth about his past and was willing to see things that didn’t exist. But if he imposed his features over hers, the shape of the eyes, the sharp cut of the cheeks—

  Still he couldn’t bring himself to believe it. “At our last meeting, you implied you were not.”

  “Shame held me silent.” Her eyes flooded with tears. “I let him take you. I—oh God. Have mercy.” With a little cry, she clutched at her belly, doubled over, grabbed the bin, and retched, leaving him to feel helpless, with little to do other than stroke her back until the heaving subsided.

  He handed her his handkerchief as she again muttered apologies for which he had no patience. “You’re unwell.”

  Scooping her up into his arms, surprised by how feathery light she was, he strode from the room as she sagged against him. “Send for a physician!” he bellowed. The hallway was open to the gaming floor and he had no doubt someone who worked for him would jump to the order.

  He barged into his rooms—grateful to see Lena pacing in front of the fire, her brow deeply furrowed as she rubbed her hands. He hated the relief that swept through him, the manner in which her mere presence so steadied his nerves, made him believe all would be well.

  “Is that Lady Elverton?”