The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride

by Tiffany Clare

  Jessica hadn’t thought a miscarriage could be so painful. She’d spotted and bled on and off for nearly a week, thinking that had been the extent of the whole ordeal. Even though the midwife she’d seen outside of London had assured her that that would not be the case, the old woman’s wise words hadn’t stopped Jessica from hoping otherwise.

  She heard the jingle of keys before she saw Mrs. Harper, the housekeeper, enter her room.

  When Mrs. Harper saw her on the bed, she rushed forward. “Oh, my lady. You’re as white as a ghost.”

  “I’m c-cold.” Her teeth chattered together.

  “You are shivering something fierce. I’ll have a hot bath run for you. That’ll be the quickest way to stave off the chill that’s taken hold of you.”

  Jessica could barely nod her thanks at the housekeeper as she went to the bellpull to call up the housemaids. Jessica forced herself up from the bed and made her way to the washbasin in her room; she lost her breakfast and the little cucumber sandwiches Hayden had plied her with an hour ago. The dizziness was unbearable and she held the stand with both hands and anchored herself as she threw up again. There were hands supporting her as the retching subsided.

  Mrs. Harper wiped Jessica’s mouth with a handkerchief.

  “I need out of this dress.”

  Mrs. Harper released the buttons at the back of Jessica’s dress. Before long the bodice and overskirts were removed, too. Her underclothes were soaked through with blood.

  When her corset loosened, Jessica took a deep breath into her lungs, but the smell of lingering sickness had her covering her mouth again. Thankfully, she had nothing left to throw up.

  Mrs. Harper assisted her back to her bed and pulled the coverlet down. “I’ll remove the bowl—there’s nothing worse than a bad smell to put you ill at ease again. I’ll give instructions to the maids on my way to the bathing room.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jessica hugged her arms tight around her midsection. A feverish chill dampened her skin. She’d thought the damage Fallon had done nearly over. She hadn’t expected the miscarriage to be so severe; perhaps it would have been like the rest had she not been as far along in the pregnancy as she was. It was almost like this was a sign that she shouldn’t have children.

  Hot tears ran down both sides of her face. She didn’t bother to wipe them away but instead let them pool beneath her left cheek and dampen her pillow.

  When the maid entered Jessica’s bedchamber, the young girl rushed forward. “You’ve fallen ill, my lady.”

  Only Mrs. Harper and Wilson had known about the babe; the rest of her staff would soon know the truth Jessica had been desperate to hide since her husband had fallen ill. Thank goodness she had thought ahead and had fired most of the staff who had been loyal only to her husband. She’d given them all a month’s worth of wages and letters of recommendation, hoping it would keep them from telling truths Jessica wanted buried.

  “I’ll need your arm if I’m to make it to the bathing chamber.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  The maid helped Jessica to her feet and wrapped her arm around her waist to keep her from sliding to the floor.

  Another wave of nausea had Jessica’s head spinning and her stomach in spasms again, so she closed her eyes and worried only about catching a decent breath. She let the maid lead her blindly to the drawn bath.

  “Thank you, Claudia. Mrs. Harper can assist me now.”

  The housekeeper nodded to the young girl as she took her leave, shutting the door softly behind her. “Did the midwife tell you what to expect?”

  Jessica nodded. When she’d found out that her husband had been poisoning her so that she would lose the baby, she’d sought the advice of a midwife—the old woman had only confirmed Jessica’s worst fears. The life within her was dead. “Only that losing the babe would be no easy task.”

  And the midwife had known with certainty that the baby in Jessica’s womb no longer grew. She’d offered a strong concoction to speed up the process, but Jessica had refused on the off chance that maybe this once the heavens were looking down at her and smiling. Maybe the babe would be spared the violence Jessica had suffered from her husband now that he was well and truly gone.

  The heavens had no reason to be kind to her. And she was sure her husband went laughing all the way to his grave and was gloating from his accomplishment from whatever depths of hell he’d landed himself in.

  Mrs. Harper helped her undress, piling her soiled clothes into a neat stack before taking her hand to assist her into the hot water. On grasping her arm, her housekeeper looked at her, worry evident in the dark brown depths of her eyes. “I’m of a mind to call the doctor to the house.”

  Jessica shook her head. There was no way a doctor could come to the house; she’d not risk this secret being found out. “We’re in for a long night, and for now the hot bath will have to do.”

  Mrs. Harper pressed the back of her hand to Jessica’s cheek, clucking her tongue in a motherly fashion. “We’ll keep adding hot water until your chill breaks.”

  She nodded, unable to speak through the chattering of her teeth as she sank into the hot water that slowly turned pink as it washed the blood away from her body.

  “This is like the influenza that swept through the household six years ago,” Jessica said absently.

  “Hopefully not so severe as that.” Her housekeeper was right in that regard. After half the house had fallen sick, a stable hand and a maid had succumbed to their illnesses, shrouding the house in black for one week—Fallon had refused to let mourning go on longer.

  Jessica’s limbs started to loosen and the aches and cramps eased somewhat in the soothing water. Enough that she closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the curved lip of the tub.

  Mrs. Harper placed a warm cloth over Jessica’s forehead. “While the maids prepare your bed for what’s to come tonight, I’ll have a broth readied for you if you think you can stomach it.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes. “You’re too good to me, Mrs. Harper.”

  “Now, lass, you’ve been kind to the staff where your lord husband was not. And I’ll not speak ill of the dead, but I only ever stayed on so I could keep an eye on you. Lord Fallon grew more foul every year past his fiftieth birthday.”

  Jessica removed the cloth and looked at her housekeeper. “I think his mood had a great deal to do with me. I’m afraid I was not a good wife or, at least, not the kind of wife he’d always envisioned.”

  “No one in this house would blame you for the actions you were forced to take, my lady. There is a certain amount of self-preservation one must seek in order to bear the brutalities this world sometimes offers us. There is also no denying that Fallon was a wretched man—right up till his end.”

  A small smile played on Jessica’s lips as she reached out to grasp Mrs. Harper’s hand to give it a light squeeze. “Broth sounds ideal, though it’ll be a miracle if I can stomach even that.”

  She’d been so hampered by morning sickness at the beginning of her pregnancy. And then there had been the addition of the poison dropped into her morning tea, making her more ill as it worked its way through her body.

  Miller, her husband’s loyal valet, had been the one watching the food she ate, making sure a few drops of the deadly tincture of blue cohosh and other harmful herbs would do its task over the course of a few weeks. She would never mourn her husband, but she would mourn this unborn child.

  What had she done that was so horrible in life that she had faced nothing but ridicule and hardship since marrying Fallon? Was it her youth paired with her much older husband’s supposed wealth that made so many dislike her? Little could they know that it was her money that had saved his estate from ruin.

  Was it her brazenness that had her husband seeking her out in the darkest hours of the night to instill his sense of justice for behavior he did not condone?

  She would never know the answers to those questions. And though she might not have cared a few months ago
why she’d been dealt such a losing hand of cards in the game of life, she cared now because the only decent thing to happen to her was being torn from her body.

  Realizing she’d been lost in her thoughts, she looked up at Mrs. Harper and said, “The bath is helping.”

  “That’s good news. I’ll leave you to relax for a spell, my lady.”

  Mrs. Harper placed fresh linens on the bench at the back of the bathtub and left to do her tasks. The sad truth was, Jessica didn’t feel any better in the water. She placed her hands over her stomach and closed her eyes. She hummed a lullaby her mother used to sing to her, sobbing softly the whole time.

  Chapter 4

  Why steal into the back of the Countess of F——’s house in the middle of the night? There is something nefarious to uncover, and I promise I’ll be the one to do so. What will become of the dowager countess now that she no longer has the protection of the late earl?

  Mayfair Chronicles, June 1846

  Hayden had been called from his bedchamber shortly after midnight. A maid stood twisting her hands together in the parlor she’d been situated in while he dressed.

  “Your business at this hour?” he asked gently. The girl seemed frightened in his presence, so he invited her to sit on the settee in his study with a motion of his hands. She shook her head and stared at him nervously.

  “There isn’t time, my lord. I’m from the Fallon household. The Earl of Barrington wanted me to come straight here and fetch you for my ladyship.” She ducked her head as though fearful of reprimand for disturbing him so late in the evening.

  “Emerson,” he called out to his butler, “bring me my hat and call for a hackney without delay.”

  A hackney would delay them further, but it was necessary if he was to travel with the maid. Jessica would be in good hands with Barrington until he arrived.

  “Certainly, my lord.” His butler bowed and left the room to do as was asked of him.

  Hayden glanced at the young woman. “We can’t be seen in the street together, as it would draw suspicion.”

  The maid continued to stare at her feet, nodding her head in agreement.

  “Please tell me what’s brought you here so late in the evening. Has something happened to Lady Fallon?”

  She looked at him with big, round green eyes. “I can’t, my lord. I’d never be forgiven for spilling Lady Fallon’s secrets. She only kept on a few of us after His Lordship passed on.”

  “True enough. And think no more of it. I’ll see her soon if Emerson can manage to fetch a hackney at this hour.”

  “I can go on ahead, my lord. The Fallon estate is close enough for me to walk.”

  “I won’t hear of it. It’s too late for a woman to be out on the streets.”

  Hayden took to pacing the small sitting room, agitated that he couldn’t act now. There were so many thoughts racing through his head on what might be the issue with Jez. He suspected he was correct earlier; she had looked ill. When Tristan had arrived for cards without her this evening, he should have known something was wrong.

  “When did Barrington arrive at your mistress’s house?”

  “Not a half an hour ago. He called for you straightaway.”

  He stopped pacing and focused his attention on the maid. “How ill is she?”

  She ducked her head again.

  “You’ll do her no harm in revealing the truth to me. It’s a mere matter of minutes before I find out why I’ve been called to her house past midnight. What ails her?” he asked, though he had a sneaking suspicion he knew the answer to that.

  The maid shook her head before averting her eyes.

  The butler came into the room. “Your Grace, the hackney awaits.”

  Hayden rubbed his hands through his hair, disarraying it further.

  When they arrived at Jessica’s townhouse, he used the servants’ entrance and took the stairs two at a time to the second floor where Jez’s room was situated. Leo leaned against the back of a chair, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark hair standing every which way. His gaze was worried as he stared at Jez from across the sitting room.

  Hayden strode past Leo and toward Jez, who lay on the chaise, head resting on a pillow, her feet curled up. Her eyes were barely open and her skin was covered in a damp sheen of sweat. He didn’t say anything to Leo as he ran forward and fell to his knees so he could lean in close to Jez.

  “Oh, Jez,” he whispered, his heart breaking as she lay prone and almost lifeless before him.

  But his beautiful, bold friend was no less strong even in her current situation.

  He placed one hand over her shoulder, the other against her forehead to test the severity of her fever. He whispered for her ears alone, “While this is not the time to chastise you, you shouldn’t have lied to me, Jez. I would have seen you through this.”

  “It was my shame to bear alone.” Her voice was quiet, as though speaking pained her.

  “It will never be yours to bear alone again.” Determination laced his words.

  She would never have only herself to count on. He would not watch her go through life alone a moment longer. And while nothing could change the deep friendship they’d built over the years, he would always be there to protect her every step of the way. He could not stand passively by waiting for her to notice the man he was, the one who wanted nothing more than to love her as so much more than a friend.

  He wanted her to himself. He always had.

  Tonight would change everything between them.

  Hayden turned enough to see the housekeeper and two maids laying out fresh bed linens. A pile of soiled bedding was rolled up in a basket on the floor. He’d have to remind them to burn the material. There could be no evidence for what went on here tonight; Jez would never forgive him if anyone found out that she’d miscarried the Fallon heir.

  Focused back on Jez, he inspected her clothes. Aside from being damp from the fever that had assailed her, it looked as though the maids had already changed her at some point earlier in the evening, for she was in a night rail. Regardless, the maids would have to help her into a dry nightgown, as this one was nearly soaked right through.

  He didn’t hesitate to lift her up into his arms and take her back to her newly made bed; she would need to rest until her fever broke and he had every intention of staying with her no matter how long it took.

  “You needn’t be so gallant,” she whispered before putting her head to his shoulder as though holding up that weight was too much for her, which only made her argument feeble.

  “I’ll see you to your bed and make sure you’re well enough to avoid seeing a sawbones.”

  And he would see to Jez’s well-being—he’d never seen her so weak and defeated; those were simply two adjectives that did not suit Jez in the least. Leo could wait for him in the sitting room. Hayden kicked the door behind him closed without so much as a word to his friend.

  As he placed her on the bed, hoping he didn’t hurt her or cause her further discomfort, her arms fell away, limp of life, from his neck. “Go home, Hayden. You can see I’m well looked after by the staff.”

  “Why should you do this alone, Jez? What Fallon did is indisputably appalling, but that doesn’t mean you need to suffer through this by yourself. We’ve been friends too long for you to fool me with any sort of false bravado.”

  “There is nothing false about me at the moment. I would prefer to suffer this shame in private.”

  She pushed herself up on the bed with a hiss of pain as she leaned against a soft stack of white pillows. Her maid mopped her brow with a cool cloth.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said simply as he turned away from her and gave instructions to the housekeeper. “Mrs. Harper, please have her clothes changed.”

  “Your Grace, I cannot—”

  “Do it. Now.”

  There was no more argument, not even from Jessica. The rustle of clothes and the trickle of water sounded as the staff sponge-bathed her and redressed her. He did not turn around, w
anting to give her some privacy. While the staff was busy with Jez, he removed his jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair.

  It would be a long night.

  “I’m decently attired,” she said.

  He turned and looked her over. Her hair had been braided again, the long rope of red curls draped over her left shoulder, falling with a curled tip at her waist. She was tucked under fresh bedding. It was deceiving for a moment how she almost looked better, but sweat beaded at her temples and trailed a slow, wet path from her temple down one cheek.

  He came forward, took the damp cloth from the maid who’d retrieved him at his residence earlier, and sat on the edge of Jessica’s bed next to her thigh.

  “Shall I call on the expertise of a midwife?” He pressed the fresh cloth to her temples, dabbing away the droplets of sweat.

  Jessica shook her head. “That would be far too dangerous. If she were discovered, she’d be questioned about my condition. I do not want anyone to know.”

  She looked away from him with a frustrated sigh and fell back against the pillows sapped of the little energy she’d displayed for him.

  “I understand more than anyone the need for secrecy in this, but you need to see someone that can help you.”

  Jessica took the cloth from him to place the cool linen over her eyes. “When I first saw the midwife, she told me that losing the babe would be painful. That it would be very near the pain of labor, because I was in the second stage of pregnancy.”

  “And what precisely does that mean?”

  “It means that I’m well enough without the interference of a sawbones or a local midwife. I just need to sleep this off.” She waved him away when he dabbed the cloth over her brow again.

  “Then I hope you won’t be too disappointed when I tell you that I refuse to leave you alone for any length of time while you’re in this state.”

  As he stood from the bed she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. “Hayden.”

  “What is it?” He took her hand, squeezing it gently, reassuringly. God, how he wished he could be of better assistance.

  “Could you please send Leo away? Ask him to remain silent on all he’s seen and learned tonight? I never wanted him to know.” Jessica shook her head as she slipped her hand away from his, seemingly disappointed with herself, even though tonight’s revelation could not have been helped. “I never wanted any of you to know.”