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In Search of Scandal (London Explorers #1)

Page 30

by Susanne Lord


  “I don’t… I never planned—”

  “But you know. I know you know. How long?”

  “A year. Maybe less.”

  A year. She was nearly ill—no, she was ill with fear. Or excitement. An increasingly familiar nausea scaled her throat and she gripped the edge of the velvet cushion beneath her. The carriage door opened and with a hurried “just a moment” she pulled it shut, to the coachman’s grunt of confusion.

  She grabbed Will’s lapel, needing him to be very, very clear. “One year?”

  “I won’t take your money.”

  “Our money.” She leveled her gaze with his and spoke as seriously as she was able with her roiling stomach. “You have all you need. You require two thousand. We have ten times that. So much more, actually. That does not even count the annual income our trust brings.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “Honestly, you and your secrets. We have all you need for bribes and we will finance an army to protect you. Find her, Will. And come back to me as fast as you can.”

  “Charlotte—”

  “This is no time to indulge your perverse desire to argue.” She threw open the carriage door, but not before sending a smile back to her husband. And yes…still her hero. “We have to make a new plan.”

  Twenty-six

  “Married?” Ben towered over her and Will on the settee. The spacious front parlor seemed to shrink from his intimidating brawn. At six foot three with a frame that had never lost the plowman’s muscle of his youth, an irate Ben Paxton would give anyone pause.

  Not her, of course. Her brother-in-law was the gentlest man in the world, and this misdirected show of temper would soon be swept aside. After all, the family had come up in the week before Will’s sail because of their love for him. Despite Ben and Wally’s glowers, they would be overjoyed once a full understanding of the situation was comprehended.

  “What do you mean, married?” Ben growled.

  Well. Very likely they would, later.

  “Exactly that.” Charlotte smiled in turn at her beloved family, all seated with varying degrees of shock and anger etched on their faces. “Our marriage was the reason I have not been forthcoming about the progress of the annulment petition. We delayed our news until we could tell you in person.”

  Speech-depriving news, it seemed.

  At least John and Liz Repton, who had come to Sunday supper as they always did, appeared cautiously pleased.

  Ben swiveled his head, pinning Will with a glare. “And how did this happen, Repton? We agreed on an annulment.”

  Will squeezed her hand. “I remember.”

  “You gave us your word, Will!”

  “I never should have allowed them to sleep in the same bed,” Wally muttered, pacing the length of the room.

  Liz Repton raised a tentative hand. “I had the most wonderful thought. Charlotte could live with us in Richmond.”

  “Oh!” she gasped, tears pricking her eyes. “Oh—like a real daughter!” She beamed at John and Liz, and they at her, and they all basked in their mutual affection.

  Which Wally and Ben grudgingly allowed. For one second.

  Ben rounded on Will. “So is the expedition canceled?”

  “Whose idea was this?” asked Wally.

  “Oh, honestly,” she mumbled in protest.

  “When did this happen?” Ben piled on.

  And then the interrogation continued, seemingly without a pause for breath from either of her brothers. Have you made any arrangements for her? Are you taking precautions? What is your plan if there’s a child? What becomes of her if you die? Do you even suit each other? Why didn’t you tell us this was a possibility from the start?

  “So you are in love?”

  Lucy’s lone question silenced the room. Charlotte’s heart stilled in her breast. Will had never said so. But she was so very sure he did, that he must.

  So she could not explain the quaking at her core waiting for him to speak.

  “My goodness,” she blurted, smiling woodenly. “This is not at all the reaction I expected.”

  Her family seemed to deflate in unison and Lucy hurried to sit beside her. “Oh, dearest, you know we wish you happy. But you’ll not see Will for years.”

  “Not years. One year…”

  She pulled her hand from Will’s to lay it upon her stomach as if she might shelter the little stranger within. Now that she was certain there was a baby…

  If only she could tell them. But she wouldn’t until Will sailed.

  Betsy, the new maid, entered with the tray and all fell silent while she set up the service, oddly placing the cups before each of them. Was the girl unaccustomed to service?

  “Thank you, Betsy,” Lucy murmured.

  The maid curtsied clumsily in her haste to leave the room.

  The silence lingered past her departure, so Charlotte poured herself a cup. “This is not Mrs. Allen’s usual blend.” The brew was bitter, and while the taste did not appeal, the cup was something to occupy her hands.

  With a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder, Will rose and faced her family. “I realize I do not deserve your sister, but I care about Charlotte a great deal.”

  “Everyone cares for her, Will,” Wally snapped. “That is not our objection.”

  “Then what is?”

  “If you loved her, you couldn’t leave.”

  “Enough!” Her cup rattled in the saucer as she dropped it on the table and fled the room.

  It was enough. No one would rejoice a one-sided love. And once news of the baby was known, they would not rejoice the life growing inside her.

  The truth had been baldly spoken for all to hear. If Will loved her, he would never, ever leave.

  But she loved him. And she would never make him choose between the baby he had lost and the one he would meet when he returned.

  * * *

  “You afraid the boy will break?”

  Will grimaced at his father, who stood holding Ben and Lucy’s tiny babe toward him. “I can’t. I’ve never held a baby.”

  The Repton men had fled to the nursery after the announcement, allowing Charlotte’s family the freedom to curse him at will. He ought to invite Seth to join them. The man still blamed him for putting George in danger and had yet to answer any of Will’s requests to see him.

  As for Charlotte, she had taken refuge in the ladies’ parlor. His inability to simply say, “I love her”—the three words her family wanted to hear—would take time to forgive.

  But it appeared his father had just succeeded in making the nursery the most uncomfortable room in the house.

  “Try, Son. It’s the easiest thing in the world.”

  “What if I drop him?” Will angled his head to examine the placement of arms, legs, neck, and oddly large head of Edward Paxton, roused from a peaceful slumber. “Shouldn’t he be a bit more…?”

  “What?”

  “Substantial?”

  His father turned the baby about to inspect his sleepy face, bouncing him higher to coo at him. “He’s just a wee thing yet. He’s quite sound for a three-month-old. Come now, don’t be an old woman.” He pushed the baby forward and Will had no choice but to grasp the infant. Immediately, Edward began to writhe and fuss.

  “See? Already he wishes to be away from me.”

  “That’s because you got him dangling in the air like a sack of manure.” His father pressed the baby toward his chest till its head rested upon his shoulder. “There’s the way…you got it.”

  The baby quieted, soft and warm and smelling like sweet milk. Will didn’t dare breathe too deep, or move at all, watching his father’s eyes for assurance. “Like this? Is this right?”

  “Perfect, Son. Look at how content the boy is.”

  And he was. Will smiled at the achievement. “He’s heavy, isn’t he? Dense.” He dipped slowly, testing the baby’s weight. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “I remember how frightened I was, first holding you.”

  “How long befo
re you were easy with me?”

  “What makes you think I’m easy with you now?” His father’s eyes crinkled with mirth. And a little sadness.

  Will smiled back, distracted by a memory of the missionary’s wife. He never saw Madame Bourianne without Aimee in her arms. The sight had tugged at his insides every time. He’d never seen a baby that small, her little back round as a fern shoot, her eyes usually closed in sleep.

  “But you’ll not have to worry over that yet. Will you?” his father asked.

  The question drew Will’s attention back. “Hmm?”

  “A baby?”

  “A baby? No, I…no.” Charlotte hadn’t gained weight; she was as slender as ever.

  His father’s face fell and Will felt a corresponding pang of disappointment he didn’t want to examine.

  “But, wouldn’t a woman…it’s just, Charlotte hasn’t refused me once. And I thought she might be…inconvenienced? Or perhaps I’m not understanding the matter correctly.” He watched his father carefully. “Or at all.”

  “You mean her courses?” his father said far too loudly. “Your mother—”

  “God, please don’t talk about Mum—”

  “—never let me touch her during her delicate times each month.” His father tilted his head, watching him. “You know that’s not the case when a woman is with child, don’t you?”

  Automatically, he nodded. “So that…just stops, does it?”

  His father lowered his brows, a rare look of disapproval. “You best talk to Charlotte and make sure, Son. If she’s expecting, you need to know.” He grinned. “And then you need to tell your mother so she can die a happy woman.”

  “I will.” The words came out shaky and he cleared his throat. “Right. We’ve probably been carrying on through her courses and I’d not noticed.”

  “That’s not how it works, Son.”

  Will’s eyes shot to his father’s, his heart juddering with terror. Or was it something else? There was a lot he didn’t understand, it seemed. He took a shaky breath. “I never planned this. Somehow I lost control of everything.”

  His father took the baby from him. “You’ve not been out of control a day in your life. You just don’t like what’s happened.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “You fell in love.”

  Did he dare to say the words? “What if I didn’t?”

  His father consulted the baby with a mournful look, then put him back in his cot. “What do you want, Will? You’ll not bring back those who died, or punish the ones who killed them. That little baby…well, you can’t really believe she’s alive.”

  Will’s jaw tightened. “She could be.”

  “What happened over there wasn’t in your control. No one controls the human heart. The heart will hate what it hates, and love what it loves.

  “You think if you trek through that undiscovered country, you’ll grind those nightmares under your boot and life will start, but it won’t. It’s the past. You look ahead to another adventure, and there’s none like letting yourself love someone completely, the way I love your mother and the way I love you.”

  Will shook his head until he could find his voice. “I don’t love her.”

  “Courage, Son.”

  “I don’t.”

  “It takes courage to love people when you can’t control when they’ll be taken from you.”

  “I can’t love her! I leave in eight days.” He frowned at that stupidity. “I just don’t want to worry over her.”

  “Oh no, no, I imagine not. Too late now, though, isn’t it?” His father smiled sadly. “The day you were born was the most wonderful and horrible day of my life. How could I protect you when you started to walk? When you went off to school? When you sailed across an ocean?

  “They told us you were dead of fever, twice. We didn’t hear from you for months, and one day, we received a telegram to collect your body on the East India quay. Your body, Will. And they carried you off that ship looking about as broken as a man can look when still breathing.” He paused, his eyes glassy with emotion. “That’s fear. Your mother and I have fear every day, but we don’t stop loving you.

  “You’ll not escape it. Not by sailing across an ocean, so you may as well stay here.” His eyes strayed to the window. Charlotte was walking on the lawn. “She’s your adventure now, Son.”

  His father didn’t understand. He couldn’t love Charlotte because…

  Because if something ever happened to her, it would break him.

  The setting sun cast long shadows behind Charlotte, her walk slow and meandering on the lawn. His eyes latched on her hands, cupped lightly on her flat stomach. Lately that stance had become a habit…

  Was it possible?

  You best talk to Charlotte and make sure, Son.

  Was it possible?

  Charlotte stilled, as if hearing a distant sound.

  Then crumpled to the ground.

  Twenty-seven

  “Will, let her go.”

  Someone was talking, small hands pulled at his arm. Charlotte wouldn’t wake. She was so pale and she wouldn’t wake— “What’s wrong with her!” he yelled.

  “Will?”

  Lucy’s face swam into focus and he forced himself to listen. “Will? We have to loosen her dress. You have to let her go. She needs air.”

  Air, she needs air. He released her but refused to move from the bed. Lucy was here, and Patty. And Ben and Wallace, his parents. All here, in their bedroom. The women worked furiously, unhooking buttons, tugging at laces.

  Christ, she was pale. His head swiveled, seeking his father. “Where’s the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

  “He’s coming, Son, he’s coming as fast as he can.”

  They opened Charlotte’s blouse, her corset, and when they maneuvered her skirts down her crinoline…seven pairs of eyes arrowed to the vicinity of Charlotte’s legs.

  And the blood.

  The air rushed from his body. No. Please God.

  “Will?”

  He twisted back but it was too late. Charlotte saw. And her wail cracked his heart.

  “No, no, Charlotte.” He grabbed her, trying to stop this, trying to make her not see.

  “Is he all right?” Her eyes locked on his. “Is the baby all right?”

  The baby.

  Feeling drained from his body, his arms braced on the mattress barely held him upright.

  Charlotte turned from him and gripped her sister’s hand. “Lucy?” Her voice broke. “Tell me.”

  “No, please.” But he couldn’t make his voice heard.

  Lucy scrambled onto the bed. “You’re with child?”

  “I…yes.”

  “All right, dearest, all right,” Lucy said. “The doctor is coming. Bleeding is…not always uncommon, not early on, and it’s…it’s not that much.”

  Charlotte stared as if her life depended on every word falling from Lucy’s lips.

  But Will could no longer hear. The memories roared back…the blood-soaked ground, the bodies, the flesh smeared with…with the blood. Christ, the smell of it, he could smell it—

  No! He heaved in air. Charlotte was alive. Her face was pale and tears streamed down her cheek but she was alive. She needed him here.

  And he would be here.

  Oh God…he would. He would—he couldn’t leave her—

  “Do you feel any pain?” Lucy asked.

  Charlotte shook her head.

  “That’s good,” Lucy said. “That’s good. Let’s relax, for the baby.”

  Charlotte clenched her eyes. He reached for her but she angled from him. He touched her arm, her hand, laced his fingers through hers, but she didn’t look at him. “Charlotte? I’m here.”

  She wrenched her hand from his.

  What was happening? What had he done? “Sweetheart?”

  Her face crumpled. “Go away.”

  “Charlotte?”

  She covered her ears and screamed, “Go away!”

  He stared, unabl
e to move. Charlotte was shaking, her body curling into a defensive ball.

  No. Not Charlotte. He’d not leave Charlotte, not ever. He launched himself against her back and wrapped his arm around her. “Please, love, don’t.” But she wailed louder.

  Hard hands grabbed him with a strength he could barely resist. Ben’s hands. “Will, come away.”

  “Leave us alone!” he growled.

  The grip tightened and pulled him off the bed. His legs unfolded and dropped under him, his feet meeting the floor with a slap. Ben shook him and Will turned to snarl at the man who would dare separate him from his wife.

  “She’s upset, Will. Listen.” Ben’s eyes were wide and worried. “Listen to her.”

  Charlotte was sobbing, her body shaking as she crawled to bury her head on her sister’s lap. Pain stabbed him in the chest, doubling him in half. He pulled out of Ben’s grip and staggered to the hall.

  His father followed and stood beside him. “Courage, Son.”

  Will collapsed against the wall and covered his mouth with his hand, but it was his father’s hand on his shoulder that kept him from screaming.

  * * *

  Will wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Dr. Simmons entered the bedroom, but it felt like hours by the time the man reappeared in the hall. “What is it?” he demanded. “Is she hurt? What happened?”

  Dr. Simmons motioned him further down the hall, presumably to not be overheard by Charlotte, and Will’s fear spiked higher.

  “It appears to have been some sort of spontaneous contraction.”

  He staggered against the wall. “Is the baby…?”

  “It is far too early to hear a heartbeat—”

  “But can’t you—”

  “She is young and healthy and I have seen women bleed a small measure and bring forth perfectly sound babies. I’ll know more in a week’s time. If she bleeds again, that would be concerning, but she tells me she felt no pain in her womb, which is encouraging. And, to be honest, a bit puzzling.”

  Will could barely follow the man’s words but he forced himself to listen. “Why?”

  “You’ll forgive me…I normally only see this sort of response in the girls in the rookeries.”

 

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