Julian glanced down at Lavender, and noticed for the first time that there was blood on her face and hands. "I don't have time to belabor the point with you, Nicodemus. I will trust you to keep your word."
"You can depend on the fact that I will not be far away from Lavender, Your Grace," Nicodemus said, disappearing into the conservatory.
Lavender gritted her teeth against the pain, while the doctor removed the broken glass from her face and hands. Julian stood beside the doctor, holding a pan of water.
"We are most fortunate that the glass which pierced her face was not deep enough to leave scars," the doctor observed professionally. "As you can see, there are some very deep gashes on her hands. I will bandage them, and they should heal nicely within a few days."
"What about the baby?" Julian asked. "She had a bad fall."
"We will have to wait and see about the baby, Your Grace. If by morning she has shown no signs of delivering, we can assume the child was not harmed."
Lavender's eyelids were getting heavy. She suspected that the bitter drink the doctor had given her earlier to soothe the pain was having a drugging effect on her. As she fought against sleep, she placed her hand on her stomach, wishing she had the force of will to protect her unborn child, because she instinctively knew something was dreadfully wrong. There was pain in her lower back, and it kept getting worse.
"I hurt," she said between dry lips.
The doctor bent over her with a concerned look on his face. "Where do you hurt, Your Grace?"
"My—" she fought against a spasm of pain. "My back hurts very badly."
She did not see the guarded look that passed between Julian and the doctor. "This may be bad," the doctor told Julian. "Will you mind having Mrs. Forsythe help me look after Her Grace? I think we should both stay with your wife tonight. You can use your judgment as to whether or not to notify the dowager of your wife's condition."
Julian's lips compressed grimly. “What is my wife's condition?"
"We shall know better in a few hours," the doctor replied.
Lavender was floating in and out of consciousness. She tried to fight her way out of the blackness that enveloped her, but the swirling mist held her in its grip. She was in a shadow world that was more frightening than anything she could have imagined. She was half dreaming, half hallucinating that someone was trying to take her baby away from her. After what seemed like hours the dense fog lifted, and she was dreaming she was in the gardens at Mannington; except it was not winter, but spring. She was walking among the flowers with her husband and her son, and her heart was light with joy.
Suddenly she was yanked back to reality by the agonizing pain that ripped through her body. Lavender could hear someone screaming and she did not know it was herself.
"Do something!" a deep masculine voice urged. "Don't let her suffer so. If it comes down to my wife's live or the baby's, then I want you to sacrifice the baby."
"Let us hope it will not come to that, Your Grace," the doctor replied.
Lavender tried to speak, but she could not open her mouth, as wave after wave of pain passed through her body. She tried to reach out to Julian, but her arms felt so heavy she could not lift them. A tear rolled down her cheek. If this was hell, she could not endure it for much longer. Now there was pressure building up from deep inside, and she felt herself bearing down with each pain.
Suddenly the doctor's voice was sharp and commanding as he spoke to Julian. "You will have to leave the room, Your Grace, the child is coming.
Lavender did not know how much time passed. Each pain that ripped through her body seemed more intense than the last. Someone bathed her face with cool water, and she had the impression it was Julian's grandmother. "The pain will not last forever, child." The dowager's voice was soft with concern. "Just one more hard push, and it will all be over."
Lavender bore down so hard her whole body trembled from the effort. Moments passed when she thought she would not be able to stand the pain, then, blissfully, the pain lessened, and she heard the doctor speak.
"It's a boy, Your Grace, but he's not breathing. He may be too small to survive."
"Do something!" the dowager insisted. "This child must live!"
Lavender tried to open her eyes, but she was too exhausted. Just before she lost herself in the soft arms of oblivion, she heard the infant cry.
"God be praised!" the dowager exclaimed as she took her great-grandson out of the doctor's arms. "He is little, but there is nothing wrong with his lungs." She cuddled the baby against her breast, grateful that she had lived to see her husband's line of succession continue. "I cannot wait to show this child to Julian. This is a happy day for me."
"Your Grace, I'm afraid I must insist that the child be kept quiet, and his visitors kept at a distance," the doctor stated authoritatively. "He should only be allowed to be with his mother, and the nurse, and, of course, his father and yourself."
The dowager nodded in agreement, while she quickly dressed the baby in the clothing that had been hastily prepared for him. She then wrapped the child in several soft, warm blankets. "I will just take my grandson to his father. I am sure he will be elated at the birth." Her eyes went to Lavender. "Will she be all right?"
"1 believe after a few days rest, Her Grace will be well on her way to a complete recovery."
Julian watched the sunrise over the village below. He tried not to think about what was happening to Lavender. He had never known a woman could suffer so grievously from giving birth. It pained him to know he was, for the most part, responsible for her pain, since it was his baby she was delivering.
When he closed his eyes, he could still see the horrible scene where Lavender had fallen through the glass wall of the conservatory, while he had been helpless to prevent it. He also remembered how cold her eyes had been when she faced him with the rapier. Had there been hatred in her eyes as she challenged him to a duel? Did she despise him so much that she had wanted their duel to last until the death?
Hearing someone in the hallway, Julian turned to see his grandmother enter the room, a happy smile etched on her face. "Well, Julian, do you want to meet your son and heir or not?"
Julian hesitated. "How is Lavender?"
"The doctor says she will be splendid after she has recovered from the birth of your son."
"So the child is a boy?"
"Yes, you have a fine healthy son."
"He ... is all right?"
She smiled assuredly. "If you could have heard the way he yelled, you would know he was very much all right. He is a bit on the small side now, but given time, it is my belief that he will reach your height."
Julian took a reluctant step forward. He did not want to feel anything for this child. "I do not want to see him. Take him away," he said in a dry voice. With an effort he turned back to the window, pretending indifference to the child.
"I would have thought you would want to see how much your son favors you. He has your dark hair, and even though it is too soon to be certain, I feel sure he has your eyes."
Julian turned back to his grandmother. "You are certain that the child is healthy?"
"As certain as we can be at this time." She smiled to herself, knowing the battle that raged within her grandson's heart. Perhaps she would just tip the scales in the baby's favor. "Are you aware that this little bit of humanity is your hope for the future. Because of him, your own line will succeed you to the dukedom. Yes, he is small, but already he is a marquess. That is quite a title for such tiny shoulders."
"Did you say he has dark hair?" Julian moved several steps across the room.
"Yes, his hair is dark. Would you care to see for yourself?"
In several long strides, Julian was beside his grandmother. He watched, hardly daring to breathe, as she pulled the cover aside to reveal the tiny infant. The dowager had said the baby was small, but Julian had not realized a human being could be this little. His hand trembled when he reached out and touched the baby's silken hair. "Are you sure
he is all right, Grandmama?”
She smiled. Would you like to hold him so you can make certain for yourself?"
Julian stepped back, terrified at the thought. "No, I would not know how."
"Very well, I'll just take him back upstairs and put him to bed then." She took a step toward the door.
"Wait," he said, staring at his small son. "Perhaps you could bring him over to the fire, just to make sure he doesn't catch a chill."
The dowager smiled to herself, but when she faced her grandson, there was no trace of humor. "Yes, I suppose we could do that. Come and sit by me," she said, walking to the couch situated nearest the fire.
Julian could not take his eyes off the child, as he eased himself down beside his grandmother. He reached out and picked up a tiny hand, noting that his own little finger was bigger than the child's whole arm. "How can a baby so small ever grow to adulthood?" he questioned in awe.
"We human beings are a sturdy lot. We have endured untold generations, and if God sees fit, I am sure we shall endure for many more." She moved forward, and before Julian knew what she was about, she placed the baby in his arms. "How remiss of me. I must send someone to the village at once to bring the wet nurse. The child will be waking soon and demand to be fed."
Julian felt his nerves tighten. "You cannot leave the baby with me. I don't know what to do with him."
She moved across the room, pausing in the doorway. "Well, you had better learn, Julian, because that baby belongs to you. He is blood of your blood, and flesh of your flesh." With that as her parting shot, she disappeared out the door. A bright smile accompanied her up the stairs. It was important that Julian have this time alone with his firstborn son.
At first Julian felt awkward and uncomfortable holding the child. Pressing his back against the couch, he brought the child closer to him so he could brace him with his body. His eyes swept the perfectly formed face, and he felt a tug at his heart. Slowly he pulled the blanket aside and gazed at the little legs, wondering how they would ever grow strong enough for the child to walk on.
Without warning, he felt a strong protectiveness for this child that was of his own flesh—his and Lavender's. Lifting the child to his face, he closed his eyes and newfound father love washed over him like a tidal wave. "My son," he whispered, feeling as if he had just been reborn himself. "We have many things to do together, you and I," he said, softly kissing the warm little cheek. "I have so many things to teach you." A lump formed in his throat. "There are so many things that we will do together." He smiled. "Do you know that you are the Marquess of Westfield?"
The baby stretched and settled down warm and snug in his father's arms, unimpressed with the fact that there was a long title attached to his name.
* * *
Lavender awoke to golden sunlight streaming into her bedroom. She tried to sit up, but weakness and pain curtailed her movements. Seeing her bandaged hands, she quickly felt her stomach and found she no longer carried the child within her.
A great sob escaped her throat as she experienced a feeling of great loss. "My baby," she cried into her pillow. "I have lost my baby!"
Gentle hands smoothed the hair from her forehead, and she turned tear-bright eyes to the dowager. "I lost the baby, Grandmama," she cried, taking in big gulps of air.
"No, dear child. The baby is not lost. You have a son!"
Lavender wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "You would not say it if it were not true, would you, Grandmama?"
"I can assure you, 1 would not. The child has been taken to the nursery down the hall so he would not disturb your sleep."
Lavender closed her eyes. So Julian had the son he wanted. Now she had fulfilled her end of the bargain and had given him a life for the life of his brother. She remembered challenging Julian with the rapier, knowing she could never have harmed him. She had many things to think about. As soon as she was able, she would be going back to America. But how would she ever be able to leave her son? she wondered frantically.
Feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders, Lavender spoke to the dowager. "When will I be allowed to see my baby?" she asked, trying to still the mother's heart that beat inside her.
Julian had given orders that Lavender was not to be allowed to see the child until he decided she could. The dowager knew he was striking out at himself more than at Lavender. "You are tired, child. You must rest for today. I am sure you will feel better tomorrow, and then you can see your son."
Lavender caught the dowager's hand. "Are you certain the baby is all right? He was born much too early."
"I can assure you he is in the best of health. Perhaps tomorrow you will see for yourself."
"Is Nicodemus here, Grandmama?" Lavender said, changing the subject.
"Is that the name of your friend from America?"
"Yes, Grandmama."
"As it happens, he is below with Julian at this moment. I am sure my grandson feels the man has a lot of explaining to do."
"I will not allow any harm to come to Nicodemus," Lavender said in a determined voice.
"When I saw them earlier, it appeared that he and Julian are on good terms. I do not believe you have anything to fear."
"Will you please ask Mrs. Forsythe to have him come to me here, Grandmama?"
"I assume, when you say him, that you speak of Nicodemus, and not your husband?"
"Yes, Grandmama."
The dowager stood up wearily. "Very well, Lavender. I will see that Nicodemus is brought here."
Lavender watched Julian's grandmother leave the room, feeling sadness deep inside. How would she ever be able to leave that dear sweet woman? Tears gathered in her eyes and she wiped them angrily away. She would need all the strength she possessed to face the days ahead of her. She ached to hold her baby, and she wanted more than anything to see Julian at the moment.
She stared at the ceiling, wondering how long it would take until she had recovered sufficiently to make the voyage to America.
23
The dowager went sailing into her grandson's study. The servants who had been at Mannington over the years knew by the determined look on her face that something was irritating her. They had seen her take the duke to task in the past, and apparently she was about to do it again.
The dowager found Julian at his desk and marched up to him. "Stop whatever you are doing and listen to me, Julian," she said in a voice that would brook no disrespect. She was using her position as matriarch of the family to speak her mind.
He placed his pen down and laced his fingers together, with a slight smile on his lips. "I am yours to command, Grandmama."
She cast him an indignant glance. "Would that it were true. Nevertheless, I have come to tell you my feelings and I insist that you listen."
He came around the desk and seated her in a chair, but when he would have spoken, she held up her hand to silence him. "I think it is about time that you and I spoke a few truths."
Julian sat down opposite his grandmother, wondering what had brought her to him in such a state. "I have a feeling I am about to be berated. May I know what I have done that would warrant your displeasure?"
"Why are you keeping the baby away from Lavender? Good God, Julian, have you no feelings?"
His eyes narrowed. "I have my reasons for refusing to allow Lavender to see the baby."
"Would you share those reasons with me? I can assure you I am completely in the dark where your attitude toward Lavender is concerned."
Julian leaned his head back and studied the tip of his black boots. "If you are asking me to be honest with you, I would have to say I am keeping the baby away from Lavender to punish her, Grandmama."
The dowager nodded. "It is as I suspected. You blame Lavender for William's death, but more than that, you blame yourself. William's death was not your fault, Julian, nor was it Lavender's. He was weak, and if the disgrace had not pushed him into taking his own life, something else would have. Being of strong character, you may never understand this.
"
Julian stared at his grandmother. "I wish to God I could believe you. I have been in torment, thinking there must have been something I could have done to prevent William from taking his own life."
"Yes, and you have tormented Lavender as well. If you are the man I think you are, you must put this unpleasant affair behind you and take the happiness that is at your fingertips. Go to Lavender, Julian. Tell her of your feelings before it's too late."
"I don't know what you are talking about. I have no feelings for Lavender."
"You can be untruthful with me, Julian, but must you mislead your own heart? I have seen the way you look at her. Why is it so hard for you to admit that you love the woman who is your wife and the mother of your child?"
Julian stood up and moved to his desk. "You are mistaken, Grandmama, about my feelings. You are a romantic and think you see love where none exists."
She sighed heavily, knowing Julian would have to find his own way and time to deal with his emotions. Rising to her feet, she sadly shook her head. "Will you allow Lavender to see the baby, Julian?"
His jaw clamped tightly together. "No. I am told that she has not even asked to see me."
"Why should she."
"Why indeed," he agreed churlishly.
"You will lose her, Julian. Is that what you want?"
He picked up his pen and dipped it in the ink. "I love and respect you, Grandmama, but I will no longer discuss this with you."
She moved in front of him and tapped her cane on his desk. "You will live to rue the day you kept Lavender from her son. The baby is as much Lavender's son as he is yours, you know."
Julian's eyes were dark and brooding as his grandmother left the room. She had given him much to ponder.
Nicodemus stood at Lavender's bedroom window, with his hands poked in his pockets and a look of concern on his ruddy face. "I don't feel good about this, Lavender. I know you well enough to realize you would grieve yourself to death if you left this baby behind."
Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Page 34
