“This a potential humiliation for me,” Lady E lamented. “What if my friends in London find out? It will be an embarrassment of the highest order.”
“Plenty of men have had children on the wrong side of the bed,” Polly said in what sounded like an appeasing voice. “You could play up the angle that he’s done nothing that some of the most influential men in the country haven’t already done.”
“It will be a humiliation,” Lady E repeated, louder than before. “And I won’t have it. I don’t care what you do,” she said, turning to Flossie, “you will find a way to get rid of it.”
“No,” Flossie shouted, incredulous. She placed a protective hand over her stomach.
“You have no right to speak to Flossie that way or to make such a foul suggestion,” Jason hissed.
“This was not part of our deal,” Lady E spat at him, though her eyes betrayed that she knew she was fighting a losing battle. “We said you would have a child with Flossie after the wedding, and that the child would be passed off as mine so he could inherit the Thornhill title.”
“Yes, that is what we said.” Jason pulled himself to his full height, staring at Lady E with narrowed eyes. “We said nothing at all about any children conceived or born before the wedding.”
“So that’s it?” Lady E sniffed, sending a wounded look to Polly, who took her hand with a look of commiseration. “You’re going to defy my wishes simply so you can bring a squealing bastard into the world? One I won’t ever recognize?”
“Yes,” Flossie and Jason answered at the same time. They exchanged a look of surprise and certainty that came close to making Flossie laugh.
Lady E, on the other hand, looked as though they had just insulted her honor. “I see how it is,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest and marching for the door. She stopped close to Flossie. “I thought I might have a friend and comrade in you, but I can see now that all I have is an enemy.”
Flossie’s stomach lurched, both at the overabundance of perfume and at all the implications having Lady E as her enemy brought with it.
“I hope you spend your entire confinement as sick as a dog,” Lady E said, huffed, then marched out of the room, Polly in her wake. Polly didn’t spare a shred of sympathy for her former friend.
As soon as they were gone, Flossie moved to the nearest chair and sat heavily.
“Are you all right?” Jason asked, fidgeting. He looked as queasy as she felt. “Do you need a rubbish bin?”
“One to throw her in? Yes,” Flossie gulped, forcing herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. “Otherwise, I’ll be all right.”
Jason rushed to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Just say the word, and I won’t go. I’ll call off everything, the trip, the wedding, everything.”
Flossie cupped his face with her hands and smiled at him. “You can’t. At least, not until Marshall has his girls back. After that, we’ll see.”
He leaned forward to kiss her, but Flossie stopped him with an ironic laugh.
“I’ve just been sick. Don’t kiss me now,” she said.
“Later, then.” He settled for taking her hands and squeezing them before standing. “I have a few more things to get done.”
“As do I,” Flossie sighed and stood.
“But you’ll accompany me to the train station later?” he asked.
“Of course.” She might not have been in a position to kiss him, but she had no problem raising the pendant to her lips and kissing that.
Jason smiled at the gesture, but even though Flossie could see affection and devotion in his eyes, there was far more terror and desperation than she ever could have dreamed along with it.
Marshall
The hospital was eerily quiet. Not in terms of the usual groans, coughs, and sniffles that always filled the waiting room, or the bustle of movement that signaled the nurses working in the wards. Everyone was silent, minding their own business, barely looking at each other. The patients had stopped chatting among themselves, and the staff did nothing but their jobs. And Marshall was well aware that it was completely his fault.
“Do you want these sheets put in the storage room, Dr. Pycroft, or should I change bed linens now?” Nurse Nyman asked in a low hush, as though someone had died, as she passed him in the upstairs hall.
“Ask Mrs. Garforth,” Marshall mumbled, then turned the corner and headed downstairs.
Simon, the orderly, veered well out of Marshall’s way as they crossed on the stairs, looking at him with fearful eyes. Marshall tried to ignore the odd looks he got when he reached the ground floor and marched on toward the office, but things had been that way for more than a month, ever since their argument. They were beginning to get under his skin.
“Are you still here?” Alex asked as he entered the office.
Marshall flinched at the sight of her. He’d thought Alex was in surgery, repairing a compound fracture that had come in that morning. His heart sped up, thumping against his ribs, but he tried to appear as though nothing were out of the usual.
“I was just about to leave,” he said, shrugging out of his white coat and hanging it on a peg.
“I see.” Alex didn’t glance up from the paperwork she was completing at the desk.
Marshall studied her covertly, pretending he wasn’t staring. He’d spent the last month pretending that she hadn’t ripped his heart out and stomped on it with her disappointment at carrying his child. He’d been no more successful at making Alex think he didn’t care than she’d been at convincing him she wasn’t terrified of what their future might bring. But in spite of it all, he still thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Now more than ever. She’d put on just enough weight to make her look even more womanly, even though there was still time to go before the baby would show, and her hair and skin positively glowed. And even though they were far from being in a place with each other where he could reach for her at night and explore all of the changes in her body, he spent every waking moment of his life longing to make love to her again. Not just because of the pleasure it could give them both, but because that would be the ultimate sign of peace between them.
His thoughts were on the verge of manifesting themselves physically in embarrassing ways when Alex glanced up at him. She blinked at the sight of him staring and blushed. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Yes,” Marshall said, speaking fast. “Everything is fine.”
It was a blatant lie, meaning he couldn’t look Alex in the face as he said it. He busied himself by putting away his clipboard and checking over the duty roster to cover activity at the hospital in his absence, then searched for even more things to do. Anything to stop him from having to walk out of that room, walk out of the hospital, and leave Alex for London. Part of him was afraid that if he left now, he’d never see her again, baby or no baby. All he wanted to do was be near her.
“You’ve gone over the order forms for when I’m gone?” he asked, picking up the catalog of medical supplies from the shelves on one side of the room, thumbing through it, then putting it down again.
“Yes,” Alex answered without looking up.
“And you’re sure you have enough help for the holiday season? It can get busy when people have had a bit too much Christmas cheer.”
“Dr. Kinesin from Windermere will be on call in case there’s a problem here,” Alex answered.
Marshall nodded, inching closer to the desk. He was running out of excuses to stay where he was. In Brynthwaite and in the painful limbo he and Alex had fallen into. Part of him wanted to break the barrier between them by putting his foot down, demanding they both stop acting like children, throwing Alex over his shoulder, and carrying her to the nearest bed so that he could ravish her until they were both too exhausted to keep fighting. Part of him wanted to beg Alex to come with him to London, for the change of scenery and society as well as to have her support by his side for the trial. Every time he played out either possible scenario i
n his mind, things ended in disaster. Whether he took the strong, masculine approach or the softer, conciliatory approach, in his imagination, Alex always ended up leaving him.
For a second time, she glanced up from her work with an impatient sigh and caught him staring. “Are you certain there isn’t something you need?” she asked.
There were so many things that he needed, but he couldn’t imagine where to start. “I just want to make sure everything runs smoothly for you in my absence.”
“It will, Marshall,” she said, her face stony. “I’ll be fine.”
“How is your stomach?” he asked. “Has the morning sickness shown any signs of abating?”
It was a stupid question for him to ask. Just that morning, Alex had had to rush out of the kitchen while he was brewing his coffee. He’d heard the sound of her being sick in the water-closet moments later. Clara had experienced something similar, but her symptoms had disappeared after three months. Marshall hoped the same would happen for Alex. It was a blessing he’d thought to hire Winnie to do chores at the house as well as at the hospital, at least until the girls returned. He didn’t think Alex could have handled chores on top of everything else.
“Marshall,” Alex said after a long, awkward silence passed between them. She slowly shut her eyes as if fending off a headache. “Is there something you want to say to me?”
He almost laughed. The volume of things he wanted to say would take hours to recite. “I wish we could spend Christmas together,” he admitted. “The hospital tends to be busy, but holidays are always special somehow.”
Her rigid expression softened. “I’m glad I don’t have to go to all the ridiculous parties and frivolities my mother always used to drag me to this year.”
“Do you mean that?” he asked, his heart feeling a bit lighter.
Alex tilted her head to the side, looking thoughtful and exhausted. “Yes,” she said at last. “I do. Mrs. Garforth tells me there’s a Christmas party here in the hospital on Christmas Eve, when all of the long-term patients’ families come for a meal and carols. I’ll enjoy that.” She paused. “Even if Mrs. Garforth thinks I deserve nothing but coal in my stocking this year.” She stole a look at Marshall that was almost conspiratorial.
“I wish I could be here,” Marshall said, meaning that he wished he could be with her, no matter where they were.
Alex hummed, then bent over her work once more. “You’d better get going. The train should be here within an hour.”
Marshall opened his mouth to beg for her forgiveness, or perhaps her love, or anything that might take them back to the beautiful weeks just after their marriage. But clearly it was hopeless.
He turned to go, figuring that if he couldn’t say anything positive, he should at least refrain from saying something that would end in his humiliation. But as he reached the door, he turned back to her.
“Are you coming to the train station to see me off?” he asked.
Alex glanced up. Her eyes were filled with emotion, but he couldn’t read what it was. After a long pause, she said, “If I can get away. There’s no telling how busy the hospital will be then.”
“All right.”
Alex returned to her work, and Marshall left before anything more horrible than the gaping, cold chasm between them could open up and swallow him. He marched through the hospital and out the front door without stopping to check on patients in the waiting room or to answer the greetings and well-wishes of his neighbors. He just wanted to get home, finish packing his things, and be off to London to get his girls back. Perhaps they would be able to fill the void in his heart, though he doubted it. The sort of affection he craved wasn’t the sort his daughters could give him.
He shook his head and laughed at himself over the thought. He wasn’t some sort of moony schoolboy, he was a grown man with responsibilities. It shouldn’t bother him that he wasn’t getting the kisses and embraces that he had a few weeks ago. He wasn’t Jason, after all. His health and happiness didn’t depend on him having a place to stick his cock at night. He’d gone for far longer stretches without any sort of affection at all, and he’d been just fine.
Except that he wasn’t sure he had been fine. Those few, glorious weeks with Alex had unleashed something within him that he’d kept locked up for too long. They’d reminded him that he could be a man of passion when the woman he was with cared for him. They’d reminded him of just how wonderful it was to be loved. He’d do just about anything to regain that feeling.
His mind was buzzing with ways he could make Alex love him as he turned the key and let himself into his house. Perhaps when he returned from London, he and Alex could take some time to themselves to talk about the future. Perhaps once he had the girls back, he would regain the confidence he needed to speak frankly with her about what he hoped for in a wife. Perhaps—
“Marshall, you’re home.”
Marshall nearly jumped out of his skin as Winnie greeted him from the front parlor as he shut the front door. He’d completely forgotten she was there tidying the place up that day. He set his keys on the shelf by the door and removed his hat and coat. “Hello, Winnie.”
As soon as he turned toward the front parlor, he stopped dead. Winnie was stretched across the sofa in a suggestive position. Her hair hung in long waves around her shoulders and over the patch that covered her missing eye. She wore a robe tied around her middle, and Marshall could only hope she wore something under it. The chances weren’t good, judging by her naked calves, which stuck out from under the hem of the robe.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come home to me for ages,” she said, extending an arm to him and beckoning him closer.
“This isn’t your home, Winnie,” he said, feeling numb and stupid. “You’re here to clean.”
“But I can do so much more than that,” she insisted, sitting up. “I can do so much more for you.”
“No, you can’t,” Marshall insisted, though his nerves bristled and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Worse still, his body was still in a state from his previous thoughts and didn’t seem to care whether the woman offering herself to him were Alex or someone else.
“Oh, but I can.” Winnie jumped to her feet, hurrying to him.
Marshall held up his hands to ward her off and edged around the room to get away from her. “Winnie, this is highly inappropriate. You’re here to do chores for me and Mrs. Pycroft, not to….” He didn’t know how to describe what she was doing.
“But I care so much for you,” she insisted, coming after him. “And I’ve seen how unhappy you’ve been for a while. Everyone can see it, and everyone talks about it when you and Dr. Dyson aren’t at the hospital.”
“Well, you shouldn’t,” Marshall said, stepping away from her again. “My private life and my wife’s private life are our own.”
“But she isn’t being much of a wife to you,” Winnie insisted, following him in what was quickly becoming a farcical chase. “You’re a man, Marshall, and you have a man’s needs. I can see them.”
Marshall reflexively tucked his hips back, praying that wasn’t what she was talking about. “No, Winnie. This isn’t right.”
“No one has to know,” she insisted. “And if you’re afraid that I’m too much of a child, I can assure you, I’m not.”
As if to prove her point, she tugged at the sash and opened her robe, exposing the fullness of her young body to him. Or perhaps not so young. Somehow, Marshall had thought Winnie was no more than an adolescent, but her curves were definitely those of a woman.
“I’m yours, Marshall,” she sighed, letting the robe fall seductively around her shoulders. “I’m yours to do whatever you want with.”
For a moment, it occurred to Marshall that Winnie had far more carnal experience than he ever would have guessed. She knew how to stand to show her hips and everything between them to her advantage and how to brush her hand across her breast in a way that couldn’t help but spark an instinctual reaction in him.
Worse sti
ll, a voice at the back of his head that was far louder than he wanted it to be urged him to take what was offered. He wasn’t getting it from Alex, after all. She never had to know. She probably still lusted after that devil, George Fretwell, anyhow. It would serve her right if he indulged in what Winnie was offering. He was only human. He had a right to accept warmth when it was offered, especially when Alex had grown so cold.
A knock at the door stopped him from being tempted by his thoughts. He jumped as though an electric current had been applied to his genitals and spun to the door. Winnie shrieked and covered herself before dashing toward the doorway leading to the kitchen hall.
“You great, bloody fool,” Marshall growled at himself, wishing someone were on hand to kick him in the crotch. He certainly deserved it.
He glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen before crossing to the front hall and opening the door. It was a small miracle that Jason stood there, dressed to the nines for traveling, instead of someone who could cause real trouble for him.
“Are you ready?” Jason asked, looking irritated and anxious.
“I just need to run upstairs and fetch my suitcase,” Marshall said, inviting Jason in and shutting the door behind him.
He was at the foot of the stairs when Jason asked, “Why is your face all red? Did you run here from the hospital or something?”
Marshall clenched his jaw. “It’s a long story.” Although if anyone would understand and actually have advice, it would be Jason. Marshall dashed up the stairs to fetch his suitcase, hoping he could find the words to explain the rotten situation to his friend.
He almost didn’t have to. When he came back downstairs again, suitcase in hand, Jason was in the front parlor, frowning at Winnie as she stood at the far end of the room, clutching her robe around her.
Jason took one look at Marshall as he set his suitcase down and entered the parlor and said, “Are you an idiot, man?”
The Brynthwaite Boys: Season Two - Part One Page 19
