by Stacy Reid
“Oh,” Adeline gasped, sympathy filling her expressive eyes. She made as if to touch him, and then withdrew her hands quickly.
Edmond felt bereft, he wanted—no, craved—her gentle touch, which would no doubt anchor him against the tearing rage and guilt stirring in his gut.
“Why did the doctor not make you aware of the dangers?”
He tipped his head against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. “I was in London, arguing reform motions in the House of Lords when Maryann went into labor. I traveled to Rosette Park as soon as I received the news of Sarah’s birth. It was almost eight weeks later before I would see Dr. Greaves again, and when I questioned him as to her melancholy, for some unfathomable reason he did not see fit to mention the warning he gave her. I am not sure if he thought she had already told me, or if he did not want to remind me I must do without an heir, but he said nothing.”
Adel climbed onto the bed, nudging at his legs until he opened them, and then crawled into his lap so that she sat with her back pressed to his chest. He heaved a sigh of relief. Her touching him was highly welcomed. She gripped his arms and tugged them around her front, and brought his knuckles to her lips and pressed kisses on them. Edmond smiled. His duchess was trying to soothe his hurt with kisses. He lowered his nose into her hair and inhaled, wanting to trap her scent into his lungs for a lifetime.
“Then what happened?” she asked softly.
“After Maryann told me, I kept from her bed and watched for her like a hawk. I asked my mother to return to Rosette Park, and we did everything the doctor said for my wife. Maryann displayed no sign of illness, and in fact glowed with health and vitality. Then at seven months into her confinement, she simply woke one morning with blood pooling on the sheets.”
Adeline’s hands tightened on his.
“I can still smell the blood and feel the heat of the chambers as she struggled to give birth. I had never seen so much blood, or felt such despair. She knew the risk, yet she willingly lay with me, because I had not been able to stop blathering about my desire for an heir. I watched the life drain from her eyes, and I saw the deep regret she felt in loving me.”
Adel flinched. “The burden is not yours to carry, Edmond, I would never besmirch—”
“Don’t! Do not try and excuse my burden. It is mine to bear. I should have probed deeper. I should have known something was wrong.”
“You are wrong, Your Grace.” Her voice was soft, but filled with steel. “It is not only your burden to bear, but mine as well. You made it so when you think to deny me the chance of a child.”
The chilled silence was broken only by their breathing.
“I am not foolish enough to believe you will be content with never having a child. But I ask of you to be generous and grant me more time. You are twenty-one. A few more years is all I require.” Then maybe the guilt and torment would be a mere phantom caress, and he would be able to look to the future.
She kissed his knuckles. “I agree, Edmond.”
Relief scythed through him, and he dropped his chin on her head. They stayed like that for the longest time, until he realized she had fallen asleep in his arms. His duchess was generous indeed, and he would endeavour to make himself worthy of her regard. One day he would be ready.
Chapter Twenty-One
It seemed like every set of eyes in the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane was upon Wolverton’s box.
“It’s the Duke and Duchess of Wolverton.”
Adel was mightily exhausted of hearing their titles bandied about. But Edmond had been correct in his assessment. They were fawned over and gossiped about in equal measure. They had been in town for almost a week, and she had attended several balls and a number of musicales with her husband. Young ladies and gentlemen who had previously ignored her presence flocked to her. She had even been startled to realize that several of the young ladies and misses had started to copy the styles she wore her hair in, and there were whispers that dresses and ball gowns were being ordered in the daring bright colors she wore. The little season had been rather exciting as she was fast making acquaintances, some of which she could see were genuine and she would come to treasure.
“Upon my word, Wolverton has arrived,” Lady Deerwood said, raising her quizzing glasses to the foyer.
Adel’s heart leaped. She had arrived alone because he’d had some political meeting to attend. She had not been sure if he would arrive before the opening of the second act. Several ladies had dropped by her box to catch her up on the latest gossip. Adel was more interested in discussing the play they were watching, a rousing tale of unrequited love and revenge. Very similar to another play she had watched with Edmond earlier in the week, but just as entertaining.
“The ton is very much atwitter with how many events your duke intends to attend with you,” the marchioness said with a sly wink.
Adel gave her a serene smile and sipped the glass of champagne that a footman had delivered to their box.
“Some say it was enterprising of you to trap him. Too many young ladies are admiring your boldness in securing a top match suitor. There have been at least four incidents this week after the ton has witnessed how much your duke attends you, my dear.”
Before Adel could respond the curtain parted and Edmond entered. He inclined his head to Lady Deerwood, and she rose, dropped into a curtsy, and departed.
Adel grinned. “Your presence always sees my friends scuttling away.”
He sat, then leaned over and brushed a kiss against her lips.
“I see you are determined to keep being scandalous.”
“Quite so,” he drawled. “How are you faring?”
Her skin prickled with awareness. Edmond seemed a bit reserved, and it recalled to mind, his aloofness that morning before he departed for his meetings.
“Never fear, Your Grace, since my arrival I have not spent a minute alone. I have caught up on the latest gossip, and the most remarkable occurrence took place right before the play started.”
He lifted a brow.
“The Earl of Vale stopped by our box.”
Her duke remained unruffled, and her suspicions were proved correct.
“At first his presence startled me, and I was well prepared to kick him in the shin and cause an even bigger scandal of the year, but he apologized most profusely for his un-gentlemanly and frightful behavior, and even begged my forgiveness.”
“As he should.”
“Was it your doing?”
“Yes.”
Pleasure warmed her. “Thank you, Edmond.”
He said nothing further before the light dimmed and the actors came out on stage. Her heart drummed in discomfort.
“Edmond?”
His icy eyes returned to hers.
“Did your meeting go well?”
“It did.”
She nodded.
“We return to Rosette Park tomorrow.”
Her breath strangled. Though she had missed the girls and the serene beauty of the estate, his words caused a shard of pain to stab her heart. “We were to be in town for another two weeks.”
“That plan has been amended.”
It did not escape her that he had not thought to consult with her. A powerful voice rose in a melodramatic song, drawing her gaze to the platform, yet her eyes remained unseeing. Adel slid her hand along his and clasped his fingers.
He tensed and ice crept through her. Then he relaxed and she wondered if his returned indifference was simply her imagination.
…
Something was wrong. Adeline tipped her head against the padded cushion as the carriage rumbled along the coarse country road with speed. A storm was brewing and the coachman wanted to arrive at Rosette Park before the deluge appeared. She only hoped he did not create an accident in his haste. She shifted the curtain for the carriage and peered into the sky. It was only midafternoon, but the sky had darkened with intent. Edmond rode ahead, glancing back so he did not draw too far ahead of the carriage. But at present, his harsh p
rofile stared straight ahead.
After their several wonderful nights together, and the tender and sometimes fierce way he had loved her, she had not expected his sudden distancing. Their sudden departure to Hampshire was jolting. They had intended to be in London for three weeks. She had no idea what had precipitated his withdrawal, and the annoying man had not made himself available to ride alongside with her so she could probe for his reasons.
They had even stopped at the inn earlier, and instead of resting and spending the night, he had ordered a fresh team of horses, mounting a new horse and leaving his previous mount to be brought to Rosette Park on the following day. After a snatched meal they had continued on with their arduous journey. Adel hated the tension coiling through her stomach, and the ache building in her heart.
A sigh of relief escaped her as the carriage rumbled through the gates of Rosette Park. She had missed the girls. They stopped, and the carriage door was opened. Edmond assisted her descent, but her duke was a veritable stranger.
“Edmond, is all well?”
Distant eyes peered down at her. He smiled, a parody really, for it did not reach his eyes. “I am well, Adeline. I will be back in time for dinner at seven.”
“Where do you go?”
“Riding.”
She blinked and glanced to the sky which had darkened even further, and the chill in the air had her tugging her coat closer. “You have been riding for hours, Your Grace.”
“Then I shall ride some more.”
Then with a curt bow, he strolled away and remounted his horse, shouting for a fresh horse rode to the stables. Before she had climbed the steps to the house, she saw him as he tore away from the estate.
Adel hurried inside and with rapid steps moved to the drawing room. She rushed to the windows facing the direction he had ridden in.
“I believe you should go after my son.”
She stifled her gasp and spun around. “Lady Harriet, I did not seen you there.”
“Of course not, you tore in as if the devil was after you.”
Adel allowed a smile to touch her lips, and she hoped it hid the sudden turmoil rioting through her. “Are the girls well?”
“As well as can be. They are at the Earl of Sheffield’s estate. Today is one of his girls’ birthday celebration, and they had traveled down with their new governess.”
“We left London quite suddenly with no time to alert the household of our arrival.”
The dowager duchess smiled kindly and rose from the chaise where she had been lounging. “I am sure my son must seem out of sorts today.”
“I…yes, he does, and I am flummoxed.”
Lady Harriet inhaled. “Foolish of me for hoping he had forgotten. When you departed with him to town, I had thoughtlessly believed he was moving forward.”
Adel frowned. “Please speak plainly, for I am at a loss.”
“Today is the anniversary of Maryann’s death.”
Oh, Edmond. Each year on the anniversary of her mother’s death, Adel found it hard to be joyful. She did try for Papa and her sisters, but it had always been a terrible ordeal. “I see.”
“I think, my dear, he should not be alone.”
“I… He has ridden away.”
“Yes, he has gone to the cottage on the eastern side of the estate, past the topiary gardens. He normally spends the night there when…when it comes to this time of the year. He said to me the very first year he disappeared there, that when he is here…he smells the blood and hears her wails.”
Adel flinched.
“Go to him, my dear, before the rain comes. He has never had a comforting presence at this time before, perhaps your company will be very welcome.”
Then she collected her book and walked from the room.
Adel stood frozen, indecision swirling through her. She wanted to hold him, to be a distraction from the pain that must pummel him. But what if he rejected her?
He smells the blood and hears her wails.
Such a memory must be hauntingly painful, and if she could provide any relief, she would be there for him. She hurried from the room to the parlor where she collected the game of Fox and Geese and a deck of cards. Then she ordered for a horse to be readied while she rushed to her chamber to change into a riding habit and half boots with the aid of her maid.
Less than thirty minutes later, Adel slid from the horse and allowed the reins to dangle. The journey had not been long, and she could have easily walked the distance if not for the inclement weather. As it was, the first cold drop of rain splashed on her cheek as she scrambled up the small steps of the cottage. She had not seen his horse, and she wondered if he was truly here. She rapped on the door with her knuckles and there was no answer. She twisted the knob and strolled inside.
“Leave.” His voice rumbled through the small but tastefully furnished cottage.
She found him in the semi-darkened room. He was sprawled in a large armchair, his boots off, his shirt half-open, a crystal decanter in one hand and a glass in another. He brought it to his lips, the strong column of his throat working as he swallowed. Then he refilled it.
“Lady Harriet told me,” Adel said calmly as she shrugged off her cloak and tugged off her gloves. She began to unbutton the jacket of her riding habit. “The cottage is cold. Will you start a fire?”
He narrowed his eyes, doing a good job of appearing menacing. But he stood, and placed his liquor on the small center table and walked over to the hearth, which he lit with an efficiency that surprised her.
“I have brought some games if you wish to—”
He stood and faced her. “I am not in the mood for games, Duchess.”
She met his eyes and froze. His face was flushed with arousal and something harder that she’d never spied before. It was then she noted the thrumming tension that held him rigid, the sensually cruel slant of his lips, and the dark torment in his eyes.
“What do you need?” she asked softly.
His jaw flexed and his hooded gaze seemed to pierce her. “You could leave.”
“Do you truly want me to?”
His throat worked on a swallow, and his eyes glittered with something thoroughly primal and a bit intimidating.
“Would you like to talk?”
“No.”
“Then what—?”
“Fuck,” he said quite rudely. “That is what I want, Duchess.”
She gasped. “You are being deliberately crude.”
His left brow arched insolently.
“Are you so afraid of showing me what you feel, Edmond?”
Rage filled his eyes at what he must have perceived as an insult. In that moment she realized he was like the wounded tiger she had seen once in a menagerie, and the slightest imagined infraction might cause him to lash out. He had the power to wound her, deeply. She pushed such thoughts away, and directed her thoughts on what she instinctively knew, that she had the capacity to offer him comfort. When she’d cried for her mother, she had no one. Days of being alone in her room, crippled by the loss that pummeled her anew with each anniversary, she had been frightfully alone. And so had Edmond. He had been woefully alone with his pain…his unreasonable guilt.
She tugged off her riding bonnet and dropped it onto the floor. Then she bent and unbuttoned her boots in silence.
“What are you about, madam?”
“Is it not obvious? You said you wanted to f-fuck.” A blush heated her entire body.
“Such crass words from yours lips should not be enticing.” His voice was a hoarse rasp. “It is best you return to the main house.”
“You need me.”
“I need no one.”
“Perhaps that has been the problem, my love, you’ve never had a shoulder to cry on, arms to hold you when you rage.”
Shock flared in his eyes, and she frowned. She stiffened.
My love…
She waited with a pained breath for him to acknowledge her slip. He did nothing, but stare with shivering intensity.
&
nbsp; “Get on the bed and await me.”
“I think not, my duke.” She would offer him the comfort of her body, but she would not allow him to dictate the terms in which she rendered her arms.
She strolled over to him, noting that he braced himself. The rain started in earnest and he shifted his eyes to the small window to their left, peering outside in the dark. The drops slapped against the windowpane like hardened pebbles. When he shifted back his regard to Adel, her throat tightened.
“I can hear her cries with the wind.”
“And what do they say?”
His expression shuttered, but she glimpsed an edge of pain and fury in his eyes that had her mouth drying.
“She berates me for not saving her and our son.”
Adel stood on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. He trembled. Yet he kept his hands fisted at his sides, not touching her.
She pulled her lips from his slowly. His face hadn’t lost the strained look. “And what do they say now?”
He shook his head. “When you touch me…nothing else seems to matter.”
She kissed him again, and he closed his eyes, tilting his head. She allowed her lips to trail kisses along the strong column of his neck, down to the powerful muscles of his chest.
“Lose yourself in me tonight. No memories, no pain, only pleasure, Edmond.”
“I do not want to hurt you,” he groaned.
“Why would you?”
His chest expanded as he breathed deeply. “I am foxed.”
Her eyes widened. While his breath held fumes from the liquor nothing about him seemed soused.
She lowered forehead onto his chest. “Then we play cards. My mother taught me how to play piquet.”
“Scandalous,” he murmured, and it pleased her greatly that amusement colored his tone.
“I know,” she said with a smile.
“I wish that I could, but I cannot let you go, not tonight, not when your touch, your smell, keeps it all at bay.”
