by Jenna Jaxon
“But it was not?”
“No.” He stared deeply into her eyes. “Once I heard your story, I realized your circumstances were the more pressing. Miss Carlton had another champion in Lord Trevor and could continue under his protection until a suitable position for her could be found. Indeed, Trevor found employment for her as a governess.”
“Really? Where? Perhaps this is why she could not attend our wedding as I had hoped.”
“The position was in Wiltshire, in the household of Trevor’s fiancée.”
Turning wary eyes on him, she asked, “Does this position have something to do with your summons?”
“In a way it does.” Her husband glanced at the clock again. “Please, Alethea, I must go. Dalbury will be up the stairs looking for me if I do not appear soon.”
“I don’t give a fig what Lord Dalbury wants or does. I will tell you, however, you will not go to Wiltshire to fight a duel for Violet or anyone else.” Her voice rang loudly in the chamber. The servants might have heard her. Dalbury himself might have done so, but she was past caring.
“Alethea, lower your voice.” Jack’s thunderous scowl should have frightened her, but she paid it no mind. “What has gotten into you?” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a sharp shake. “I told you I will be Trevor’s second and as such I will not fight.”
“You don’t know that,” Alethea sobbed, overcome with grief. “Miss Carlton herself told me of her brother’s death in a duel.” She raised a defiant gaze to his dark brooding eyes. “As his cousin’s second.”
“Damn it, Alethea, I swear to you, I will not be harmed. Miss Carlton’s circumstances are unfortunate, but they are still rare.”
“Are they truly, Jack? Then what of my brother and my father’s cases? Were they rare as well? Three rare cases seem to make them less rare and more the normal result of a duel, wouldn’t you say?”
Lines of concern shadowed Jack’s face. “What happened to your brother and father?”
Alethea slumped down into the chair once more, the quivering that overtook her stomach whenever she thought of George now extending to the rest of her. Tears pricked her eyes. “My brother George had a disagreement with a man—something silly over a horse race. It almost came to blows and when George finally tried to walk away, the man called him a coward, forcing George to call him out.”
“Alethea, I’m sorry.”
“I tried to dissuade him. My mother tried. My father forbade it, at first. George was only eighteen.” Tears trickled down her cheeks and she dragged the sleeve of her nightgown over them. She’d cried so many times for her brother. “George talked and pleaded and finally Father agreed to allow him to defend his ‘honor,’ but only if Father could accompany him and be his second.”
“And something went terribly wrong?” Jack knelt in front of her, taking her hands and squeezing them, pressing them with a primal warmth that soothed her.
Nodding, she drew a shaky breath. This ache in her heart seemed ever fresh. “Father believed that as George’s second he could negotiate an agreement with the other man’s seconds and stop the duel. That’s how it’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Usually cooler heads will prevail, though not always.” He ran his thumb over the knuckles of her hand. “He couldn’t stop it, could he?”
“No, he couldn’t.” Hot tears continued to scald her cheeks. “The other man was determined to see it through, to prove himself, he said afterward. He chose pistols rather than swords.” The memory came flooding back and she swallowed hard against the pain and grief. “With a sword in his hand I think George would have stood a chance. He’d had lessons since he was six.”
“Like me,” Jack said, standing and passing his hand over his face. “I’ve known how to use a sword forever. Always loved the feel of a blade in my hand.”
“George too,” she replied eagerly. “He practiced all the time. He would have bested the bastard if he’d been allowed to use a sword.” She drew a shuddering breath. “The man knew that, of course, and chose pistols.”
“What happened to your father? After George…”
“George was hit in the side. The coward fired before the handkerchief dropped. He never even had a chance to fire his shot. Father and the surgeon tried to stop the bleeding. They carried him home, but he died before they arrived. Father”—she paused and wiped her eyes—“went to the villain and challenged him. Called him a coward for shooting too soon. We all wanted him to avenge George.”
“Did your father die as well?” The grim tone of Jack’s voice brought her up short.
Shaking her head, she wiped her face again. “Oh, no. Father killed him in a fair duel. But before Father’s ball hit him in the heart, the cur managed to get off a shot. It shattered my father’s left arm. The surgeon had to amputate it.” She stared grimly up at Jack, whose face had been stripped of any emotion. “He’s grown used to doing without it. But it’s a constant reminder of George, as if we needed one.”
“Alethea.”
She rose, staring him down. “You see why I don’t want you to go, Jack. I’ll be out of my mind with worry the entire time you’re gone. I can’t—” Thoughts of him lying in some muddy field, a bullet in his heart, his precious life stilled forever, filled her with terror. “You can’t—” The horror of that vision tore away her breath. “I can’t—” She must forbid him from going to Wiltshire, but couldn’t draw breath to do so. Clutching her throat, she reached for Jack.
Face ashen, Jack leaped forward, seized her in his arms and strode to the bed. He laid her carefully on the counterpane and chafed her hands, her wrists. Peering into her face, he called her name, the sound far away. “Alethea, breathe. You must breathe. Take a breath.”
Choking, her throat clogged with unshed tears, Alethea struggled to pull even a little air into her lungs. Blackness swam at the edges of her vision, little black dots looming larger and larger until they covered everything.
A foul stench snapped her back. She bolted up in the bed, coughing and retching as Jack waved her vinaigrette of sal volatile under her nose. Grabbing his hand, she pushed it away. “Lord, that’s horrible. You can cease and desist. I’m awake.” She gazed around the dark room, the candle casting monstrous shadows on the walls. As she shrank back, she was captured by his strong arms as they slid around her.
“Easy, love. I’ve got you.” Sweet warmth in his voice, sweeter heat in his arms, and his comforting presence in the darkness filled her with such relief she cried again.
“Please don’t go, Jack. Please, I beg of you. If something happened to you, I couldn’t stand it. I wouldn’t want to go on living without you.” Tears rained down her face, soaking into her gown and his shirt.
“Shhh. It’s all right. I won’t go. I promise.” He gathered her to him. “Dalbury will likely strangle me, but I will tell him you are ill and I mustn’t leave you. He’ll believe that. Between Kat and his sister, Juliet, he’s used to the plea of illness, although both of them are rather robust women, in truth.”
“Lord Dalbury will blame me for your absence. And he will still need a second. Who will he choose? Who will champion Violet’s honor?”
“Do not upset yourself over that, my love. I will speak to Dalbury and together we will make the proper arrangements. I trust Trevor will have everything well in hand by the time Dalbury arrives. Do not fear at all for Miss Carlton. I suspect she will be well taken care of by Lord Trevor.”
“I feel so foolish, Jack, but I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of waiting here for days, not knowing if you are alive or dead.” She burrowed into his arms, where she wanted to stay for all time.
“Not foolish, my love. You’ve had a hard time of it. Dalbury will understand. It will all turn out all right, with or without me.” He brushed a kiss over her brow. “Stay here. I must give him word about the change in plans, but I shall return to you s
hortly. I promise to cradle you until you fall asleep. Will you agree to that?”
“Oh, yes, Jack. I’ll stay right here and wait for you.”
“Good girl.” He slid his arms from under her, gave her forehead another brief kiss, grabbed the candle and vanished out the door.
As the darkness enfolded Alethea once more, she stretched and slid beneath the covers, breathing slower and deeper. Counting the minutes until he returned to circle her once again in his powerful arms.
* * * *
The candle wavered as Jack ran down the front steps. God knew how long he’d been detained with Alethea. Dalbury would likely be annoyed. Even more so once Jack informed him he’d not be accompanying him.
A light in the front receiving room told him where his butler had shown Dalbury. Putting on his stern face, Jack hurried toward the light.
Dalbury paced the small room, the soft slap-slap of his gloves against his thigh punctuating each stride. He whirled at Jack’s entrance. “It took you long enough. We must be off immediately, Manning, if we are to reach Wiltshire by evening.”
“I regret to inform you I won’t be able to make the journey.” Jack steeled himself for his brother-in-law’s explosion.
“Why in God’s name not?” Dalbury’s scowl darkened his whole face.
“Alethea is…ill. I don’t dare leave her.” Hating to lie, but unwilling to give the true reason for his decision, Jack affected a concerned furrowing of his brow.
“Ill?” Dalbury leaned close, a speculative gleam in his eye. “Is she losing the child?”
“Good God, no!” Jack jerked back, disgusted that his brother-in-law would jump to such a conclusion. “We’ve just this evening returned from Sussex, not four hours ago. My wife is exhausted and feverish and I won’t abandon her just to witness Trevor skewer this Harper fellow.”
“And what of Miss Carlton’s honor?”
“Her honor will be just as intact if I am not present. You said she was not harmed in the assault?” Jack had been incensed by Trevor’s revelation of the attack on Miss Carlton by her employer’s son. He’d been ready to spear the cur himself before he’d gone to inform Alethea of his departure. Once again he’d had to choose Alethea’s plight over Miss Carlton’s or else forever think himself a cad for leaving his wife when she needed him.
He knew he’d be perfectly fine participating in the duel. His skills with a sword had improved immensely since he’d begun sparring with London’s legendary Angelo. After hearing Alethea’s story and learning her fears, however, he simply couldn’t put her through that agony of uncertainty.
“No, she wasn’t harmed. Trevor found them in time. Almost killed the pup then and there, apparently. Pity he didn’t. Much less fuss if he had.” Dalbury’s matter-of-fact tone sent a chill down Jack’s back. Thank God he’d never had to meet the man over a blade. His brother-in-law had a ruthless streak in him, a detachment that made him an excellent swordsman and a dangerous opponent. Only his wife and sister could find the softer side of the marquess that he kept buried deep. “You are certain you cannot go? You’ll return in three days. She’ll scarcely know you are gone.”
“Trust me, she’ll know. Sorry to put you in a bind.” Jack ushered the perturbed man toward the entry hall.
“A bind it certainly is. Where am I to find another second at three o’clock in the morning?” Dalbury pulled on his gloves, his face grim.
“Do you absolutely require two seconds?” Normally one would suffice. However, current practice allowed that four men had a better chance of persuading the combatants to call off the proceedings.
“Apparently I am to be the deterrent. Harper and I have tangled before. You were to be the cool voice of reason.”
“A cool head?” The image of Dalbury’s mock duel with his sister Kat came immediately to Jack’s mind. “Why don’t you try Reginald Matthews?”
“Matthews?” Dalbury’s eyebrow cocked up devilishly. “That is a thought.”
“Tell him he is deputized in my stead as representative of the Fitzwilliam family.” Matthews was a distant cousin of Jack’s and a Bow Street Runner. A good man to have in a crisis.
“I doubt he’ll thank you for that.” Dalbury grinned as Jack opened the door.
The cold wind whistled in, swirling around the corridor like a wild thing.
“’Sblood.” Jack shut the door before Dalbury could leave. There was that other matter he needed to speak to Dalbury about.
“If you remember, Manning, although you are staying, I am leaving.”
“There’s one more thing I must consult you about.” Jack peered at his brother-in-law’s impatient face and groaned inwardly. There was no time to broach the subject of his predicament.
“Spit it out, man. I need to have left ten minutes ago.”
No, definitely not now. Dalbury would laugh in his face. Not at all conducive to finding a solution to the problem. “When do you return?”
“Two days, three at most. Then immediately Kat and I are retiring to my home seat. All Dalbury heirs have been born there.” Dalbury drew himself up, full of arrogance. “A tradition I do not wish to break.”
“You are certain it will be the heir?” Jack had to smile at the haughty look on his brother-in-law’s face. To have his first child be a girl would be the ultimate blow to the man’s pride.
“Naturally we wish it to be. Although Katarina and I have a small wager on the outcome.” Dalbury’s knowing smile hinted that the wager would remain a secret between him and his wife. “We are eagerly awaiting the birth for several reasons.”
Eager did not describe Jack’s attitude to the impending birth of Alethea’s child. He wished the situation had been different, that he could be excited as Dalbury and Morley were. All he could do was send up another prayer that Alethea would be delivered of a daughter.
“You should join us there in a fortnight. Give us time to settle in, then you and your bride will be most welcome and we can discuss whatever you will. Merrywell is always a breath of fresh air, even in February.”
Lord, two weeks before any relief. He’d be quite used to cold baths by then. “I’ll tell Alethea. She’ll likely want a change by then and I’d like her and Kat to become better acquainted.”
Dalbury grunted and pulled the door open, bracing against the sharp wind. “God help us both when those two put their heads together.” With a quick bow, he slipped out into the night.
Merrywell in two weeks.
Would his wife enjoy the visit or would it seem as though he kept dragging her from pillar to post in an attempt to avoid her bed? And now another two weeks of holding her at bay. His cock surged up in protest, but he would not risk hurting her again. He must find out how to control himself lest, in his ignorance, he hurt her in some unspeakable way when they were finally, truly intimate. Had he done the deed even once before, he’d have some idea of what to expect, how to control himself. Now he was married, that avenue of gaining experience had closed. He’d not dishonor his marriage vows in an attempt to learn what he should have done years ago. If it hadn’t been for his father’s warnings…
Shaking away the memory, he mounted the stairs to return to Alethea. To hold her and quieten her fears, all the while his body hungered for hers. Best wash in cold water first, for both their sakes. Pray God this would all untangle in two weeks or he and his bride would burst into unquenchable flames.
Chapter 16
Alethea urged her mount forward in the crisp morning air. After two long weeks they were finally on the way to Merrywell, the Marquess of Dalbury’s country estate. She’d been excited when Jack had told her of the journey the night she’d prevented him from accompanying the marquess to Lord Trevor’s duel. The man obviously hadn’t been angry with Jack, or why invite them to a house party?
Of course, Jack would enjoy seeing his sister again, so close to her confinement. And al
though the property lay two days’ ride from London, her husband seemed to have no qualms about journeying there, even when Alethea suggested they ride part of the way on horseback. She’d made that inspired request in hopes they could spend the time in an activity they both enjoyed.
Perhaps he’d indulged her because of that or because he refused to indulge her in the bedchamber.
Alethea gathered the reins, smiled at Jack, riding beside her. He looked devilishly handsome today in his blue jacket and buckskins, his dark blond hair shiny in the sunlight. Good enough to eat, though she’d had no chance of late. Had scarcely seen him in the past two weeks in fact. She kept Goliath to a sedate pace to please her husband. There had been precious few ways to do that. She’d believed that night, after she’d gone to sleep in Jack’s arms, things would be different. He would continue to come to her chamber, at last satisfying them both. Oh, how she’d looked forward to that.
The following night, however, he had stayed out late and at last she’d gone to bed. Alone once more, but hoping to be awakened during the night by her husband’s scratch upon her door. To her annoyance, next morning she’d awakened as alone as when she’d gone to bed. She’d asked him at dinner—the only time she’d seen him all day—where he’d been so late. He replied that he’d been at a business engagement that had turned into a social one.
“Will you be in this evening?” She’d sat straighter, her arms drawn into her torso to make her breasts almost pop from her gown. His eyes had almost popped as well. He’d grabbed his wineglass and drained it. “Yes, my dear. I’ve got so many things to catch up on. We were gone for a fortnight, as you know, and we will be at Merrywell for a month at least. I must put my affairs in order before we leave.”
“I do understand that, my dear. But I had hoped we would spend some little time together, in the evenings.” If she pushed her breasts any harder they would explode. Had he once again lost interest in her?
