The Bed and the Bachelor

by Tracy Anne Warren

  “No one expects you to pine away at home, love,” Edward said, bending down to kiss her cheek. “We just don’t want you giving birth in a public park.”

  As the assembled company laughed, Claire playfully swatted Edward’s hand away. Then she laughed too.

  Drake might still have been able to slip away at that moment had it not been for the arrival of another trio of people—Miss Manning; her father, Lord Saxon; and on his arm looking almost girlish, Drake’s mother, Ava.

  He’d frowned at the sight of them, unable to help but stare at the middle-aged pair as they talked and flirted, Ava’s frequent laughter skipping lightly on the air at Saxon’s throaty remarks. Just what was the man playing at? Drake wondered. If Drake didn’t know better, he would think Lord Saxon was courting his mother!

  He’d been mulling over that astonishing idea when Miss Manning stepped shyly to his side and began asking about balloon flight. Unable to find a polite means of excusing himself, the minutes ticked past. But as he watched the airship rise into the clouds, his head and heart had been with Anne rather than the pleasant yet uninspiring Miss Manning.

  But now, manners be damned, I’ve had enough, he thought.

  “—So you’ll join Papa and me at the fête on Wednesday next,” she was saying, a happy smile on her pink lips.

  “Yes . . . I mean no . . . what?”

  Her smile dimmed slightly. “The fête. You know, the one I was telling you about. You said you’d be there.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Or had he? Hell and damnation, given my preoccupation, I might have agreed to nearly anything.

  “My pardon, Miss Manning,” he said, “but I am afraid I must not have been attending properly to the conversation.”

  “Oh.” Her smile disappeared completely. “You have other things on your mind.”

  “Yes,” he told her honestly.

  “Mathematics, then? A new theorem?”

  “No, but other matters of import. I pray you’ll forgive my lapse.”

  For a moment, she looked as if she didn’t think she would, but then gave a resigned nod and a forced, half smile. “Of course, my lord. You are known for your brilliance, as well as your distractions.”

  Yes, he thought, but not over women. Certainly not over one woman in particular.

  Seeing Miss Manning’s downcast expression, however, his conscience twitched with guilt. Just because he wasn’t attracted to her in a romantic way, didn’t mean he had the right to wound her.

  Devil take it, this just isn’t my day.

  “I can’t promise I will be at the fête,” he said, “but I expect we shall see each other again soon at another entertainment. In the meantime, you shall not lack for partners, I am certain. Your dance card must always be full.”

  She appeared to rally again at his remark, squaring her small shoulders with a healthy measure of pride. “Yes, it is, my lord. I am sought after by a great number of gentlemen.”

  Just not you, came the unspoken conclusion to her rejoinder.

  “Then I wish them good fortune in winning your affections. The gentleman who secures your hand will be a lucky fellow indeed.”

  She gave a small, nearly silent sigh, linking her fingers in front of her before she looked up. “Lord Drake?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is it . . . is it me?” she asked in a quiet voice. “Or is there someone else?”

  His features softened, deciding he owed her nothing less than the truth. “You may rest assured, Miss Manning, that it most definitely is not you.”

  Her lips rounded in an O of clear curiosity.

  Before she could question him further, however, he bowed and stepped away. Perhaps there was still time to buy that sweetmeat for Anne after all.

  He’d taken no more than five steps away when a sudden cry made him swing back around.

  Claire stood next to her chair, gripping the back, a peculiar expression on her face as if she’d just received a rather unexpected shock. “Well, good heavens,” she said in wonder.

  Edward moved quickly to her side and slipped an arm around her back. “What is it?”

  “Nothing to fear. But I believe in all the excitement, your son has decided to arrive early.”

  Edward blanched. “You’re in labor?”

  Claire nodded. “Yes. And if you don’t want the next Marquis of Hartsfield to be born in a park, you had best get me home straightaway.”

  Chapter 22

  The servants returned home abuzz at the news about the duchess. Imagine Lord Drake’s sister-in-law going into labor in Green Park? By nightfall, they all agreed, the tale would be the talk of the town.

  Luckily for Sebastianne, no one seemed to notice her distraction. What with all the hullabaloo, her unusual quiet went just as unremarked as it had earlier that morning. As for Drake, she assumed he’d gone with his family after the duke had scooped his pregnant wife into his arms and strode hurriedly toward the waiting carriage.

  Not long after she entered the town house, however, she realized that Drake had returned home instead. Without intending to, she found him in his workroom, busy gathering a few items together, including a thick journal and a handful of pencils.

  “Anne . . . Mrs. Greenway,” he corrected, looking up from where he stood behind his desk. “Come inside and close the door.”

  Aware that both footmen and Mr. Stowe were in the hallway and might have heard his familiar use of her first name, she hesitated. But what did it matter now if any of them guessed the true nature of her relationship with Drake? She would be gone soon and would never see any of them again. And once she disappeared, they would have a great deal more to discuss than their speculation that she’d shared a bed with Drake. They would have her betrayal to gnash over and her character to shred and trample like so much hay in the stables. Spirits low, she stepped inside the room and shut the door at her back.

  Sending her welcoming smile, Drake placed the items he’d gathered into a neat stack at the edge of his desk, then came around to her. Reaching out, he captured her hands in his own. “Sorry about today,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I tried to get away and join you, but events kept conspiring against me.”

  She gave a little shrug. “It doesn’t matter. I understand.”

  “Do you?” Raising her hand, he kissed her palm. “Then you’re an angel.”

  He won’t think so in two days’ time, but for now I’ll let him keep believing what he will.

  “I wanted to see you for a few minutes before I have to rush off,” he said. “With a new Byron on the way, the whole brood will be gathering at Clybourne House, and I’m expected to join them.”

  “Of course, you are. Naturally, you must be with your family.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t want to leave without seeing you first, to tell you that I won’t be home tonight.”

  Her heart lurched in her chest. “Not home?” she said, vaguely aware of the quaver in her voice.

  “It’s just for tonight,” he reassured. “The whole family will sleep over, either to wait for the birth or to celebrate once it’s happened. I wanted you to know.”

  Agony sliced through her like a blade. Despite what she’d seen in the park and the possibility that he was considering marriage to another woman, she’d been counting on making love with him tonight. One last time together before she had to flee. One last chance to create memories that would have to last her for a lifetime.

  But he wouldn’t be there. Worse, with him out of the house, she knew that tonight was the perfect time to copy the cipher, the sensible move. Once she’d done that, she would have to leave. Instead of two days, she would have none.

  Mon Dieu, this is the last time I shall see him.

  She clenched her fingers until her nails bit deep into her flesh, using the pain to keep herself from weeping.
For heaven knows she would have plenty of time later for tears, years in which to mourn Drake’s loss.

  And mourn him she would.

  His loss would be like another death to her, only worse in a way than Thierry’s because this time she was the one killing their union. She was the one willing to let him go.

  A dreadful pressure built in her chest, a swelling ache that threatened to pull her under as if she were caught in a fatal current. But she couldn’t afford to break down, she knew, couldn’t possibly allow him see that she was falling apart inside.

  With a fortitude she hadn’t realized she possessed, she forced her lips into a smile. “I shall miss you, but as you say, it’s only for one night.”

  Some hint of her desolation must have shown in spite of her brave façade, since he slipped a finger beneath her chin a moment later and lifted her face so she was forced to meet his gaze.

  “Don’t be sad, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ll be back soon, and when I return, I promise I’ll more than make up my absence to you.”

  Lifting her hand, she caressed his face from temple to jaw, tracing the shape, memorizing each contour and plane. “Kiss me, Drake,” she said.

  He smiled, then pressed his mouth lightly against her own.

  “No, not like that,” she told him, a bit of her desperation creeping through. “Really kiss me, like you’ll never kiss me again.”

  His eyes widened in momentary surprise, then darkened with passion. “With pleasure.”

  This time when his lips met hers, there was no restraint, no hesitation as he claimed her mouth with a wild, ravenous ardor.

  Closing her eyes, Sebastianne gave herself over to the intensity of the sensations, savoring each glide and stroke of lips and tongue as she tunneled her fingers into his thick hair to draw him nearer. His healthy male scent swam in her head, a combination of fresh air, warm wool, and clean perspiration. He tasted even better, of sweet wine and fragrant spices, the flavors saturating her tongue as he played over the delicate inner flesh of her mouth. Shuddering, she kissed him with a feverish longing, giving free rein to her need and desperation, aware that each passing second led her closer to the end.

  Stepping more fully into his embrace, she held him tight, wanting nothing between them, not even her fear of the parting to come. Dark and fierce, the tempo of their kisses deepened, growing slower and richer in a way that mirrored the heavy slamming beats of her heart.

  From this time forward, these moments would be seared into her memory. Even more, they would be imprinted on her flesh like a brand that could never be scrubbed free. Forever after, Drake would be the one to whom she would compare all others. The man who would cast all other men into the shade and make them seem weak and wanting.

  She was ruined for anyone else, she knew.

  She was his now.

  Always.

  Kissing him harder, she gave herself utterly to the embrace, trying not to think of anything but the majesty of his touch and the beauty of being in his arms.

  Drake, she whispered in her head. Je t’aime.

  Toujours, mon coeur. Mon amour.

  And then slowly, as both of them labored to catch their next breaths, he set her aside.

  “Sweet Jesu,” he swore, “that was one hell of a kiss. Remind me to go away more often.” He smiled, still straining to regulate his breathing.

  She didn’t answer, afraid of what she might say, of what she might reveal.

  Giving his head a shake, he sent her a smile, then crossed back to his desk. “I’d better be on my way. If I don’t leave now, I never will. I won’t have the strength. I’ll have you upstairs in my bed instead and plague take the family.”

  Gathering up his belongings, he walked to the door. “Don’t look so downcast, sweet. I’ll be home again before you know it.”

  But I won’t, she thought. I shall be gone.

  “Good-bye, Drake,” she said softly, drinking in the sight of his beloved face one final time.

  With another smile, he opened the door and stepped through.

  Quite suddenly, she couldn’t breathe again, a pain unlike any she’d ever known before threatening to cleave her chest in two. For a moment she wondered at the agonizing sensation, then realized what it must be.

  It was the feeling of her heart breaking, the sensation of its dying.

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, alone and motionless. Luckily, no one entered. No one came to see how she was and what she might be doing inside Drake’s workroom.

  At length, she steadied herself, an icy sensation of cold sweeping through her body to leave her numb.

  This was the end, the day she had been both dreading and anticipating since her arrival in England. Tonight she would copy the cipher. This evening, after everyone else was abed, she would betray the man she loved in order to save her family across the Channel—two little boys and an old man who needed her more.

  Could any woman be more wretched than she?

  Wondering how she was going to make it through the next several hours without anyone’s noticing her distress, she did the only thing she could think of.

  Waiting until the hallway was empty, she walked to the library where she knew Drake kept a small store of liquor for guests. Opening the cabinet with her housekeeper’s key, she poured herself a hearty draught of whiskey. She tossed it back quickly, the alcohol burning her throat and nearly making her gag. The spirits did nothing to erase the chill that had settled like winter into her bones, but at least it steadied her nerves enough that she could force a smile and form a coherent sentence.

  Cleaning and drying the glass, she put the cabinet to rights again, then locked it. Drawing a deep breath, she turned and strode from the room, as ready as she ever would to do what must be done.

  Chapter 23

  “It’s a boy!” Edward announced from the doorway of the morning room not long after sunrise the following day. A huge grin of happy exhaustion creased his stubble-darkened face, his usually impeccable attire stripped down to shirtsleeves, waistcoat and trousers, his cravat long since discarded and forgotten in some distant part of the house.

  Drake returned his eldest brother’s exuberant smile from his place at the dining table, where he, Cade, Leo, Lawrence, Adam and Quentin, their cousin by marriage, had gathered to have tea and eggs while they awaited news of the birth. As for the women, they’d kept vigil with Claire, taking light repasts at odd hours of the night when the opportunity allowed.

  Sometime around three in the morning, Drake had tried to catch a few hours’ sleep, but like everyone else in the house, hadn’t managed more than one or two amid the waiting and worrying, and the distant, disturbing echoes of Claire’s cries of pain. But all was well now, a jubilant calm having descended over the town house with the arrival of the new baby.

  Leo stood, since he was closest to the door, and offered his seat to Edward. Gratefully, Edward accepted, another wide, spontaneous grin spreading across his face as the rest of them offered a hearty round of backslaps and congratulations.

  Drinking from a cup of hot coffee one of the footmen set before him, Edward told of his part in the birth. He was glad, he said, that he’d decided to ignore the convention of fathers staying out of the birthing room, so that he could be there to support Claire as their new son came into the world.

  Cade and Quentin, who were fathers themselves, stood in complete agreement, while Adam stated he wouldn’t miss being at Mallory’s side when her time came a few months from now.

  Leo and Lawrence rolled their gold-and-green eyes and traded identical looks of horror, while Drake kept his silence and reapplied himself to his breakfast.

  What must it be like watching the woman you love give birth? he wondered. What would it be like with Anne?

  Disconcerted by the notion and even more by the fact that he somehow didn’t mind the idea of Anne Gr
eenway having his child, Drake frowned and bit into a slice of buttered toast.

  “Claire is getting some badly needed sleep at the moment,” Edward told them, his own eyelids drooping ever so slightly as he drank another cup of dark brew and started in on a plateful of ham, toast and eggs. “The baby will have her awake again soon enough for a feeding, since she insists on doing it herself. I suggested a wet nurse, but Claire says Robert’s first meal won’t be from a stranger.”

  Drake glanced up from own plate. “Are you naming him after Father then?”

  The others looked on with interest.

  Edward nodded. “Yes, and Claire’s father as well. Robert Henry. We thought it fitting somehow given the fact that they’re the ones who arranged our match in the first place.”

  Everyone fell silent for a moment as they considered the remark and all that had happened since that childhood betrothal.

  Some of the ladies appeared soon after.

  Meg sauntered in to perch on the arm of Cade’s chair and eat the bacon off his plate, while she reported that mother and child were still asleep and doing beautifully. Quentin’s wife, India, slipped into the seat next to her husband and sipped a cup of tea; Mallory followed, taking a place between Adam and Drake.

  Looking decidedly owl-eyed, she yawned numerous times over the piece of jam-coated toast her husband placed in her hand. Adam waited until she’d eaten it, along with half a coddled egg, before gathering her up to lead her from the room with plans to seek their bed.

  Edward drank the last of his coffee, then bid them all a hasty adieu as well, excusing himself so he could return to Claire and their new son. He also planned a visit to the nursery to see their young daughter, Hannah, who would be waking soon and undoubtedly wanting her mama.

  Once he’d gone, the others found themselves slightly at loose ends.

  “I suppose we ought to get a bit of rest as well,” Lawrence said at length, covering a yawn with a curled fist. “Lord knows none of us slept much last night. A couple of hours abed wouldn’t go amiss, then we can celebrate properly. Cook is busy preparing a special supper tonight that we dare not miss. Mama would have our heads, after all, if we skipped out on it in favor of a Ton party or to visit a gaming hell.”