"It's not you," she whispered into her hands.
"A cliché, Ali," he said.
She looked up at him.
"It is never about the person being rejected. Or so I've heard," he said.
"I'm not..." Alison froze. Was that what she was doing? Rejecting him? Her heart twitched and a vision of not having this man in her life flashed before her. "I'm not... rejecting you."
He visibly exhaled and his shoulders relaxed. "Then for the love of God, Ali, please tell me what I did wrong up there."
She closed her eyes and another tear slipped out. Biting her lip, she shook her head. Her hand rose and she cupped his face as she opened her eyes and stared intently into his.
"It. Is. Not. You." She repeated brokenly.
He waited patiently, and after several minutes she pulled away and dropped her hands into her lap. Clasping them tightly, she stared at him, then turned and gazed off into the distance. Memories of her past and her time with Phillip flashed before her. As painful as they were, John had a right to know. Especially if he still wanted to marry her.
After taking a deep breath, she began. "Last night I told you a little more about my marriage. And I know you worked out some of the other problems we had. Especially toward the end."
He nodded and then stood up. Moving to her side, he sat down and covered her hands with his. Alison took courage from the contact. She stared up into the sky, watching the clouds drift by.
"But the worst of it," she said, "was he wanted his beautiful doll back. The one he loved to show off to his friends and family. The perfect wife as counterpart to his own perfection. The ideal companion he could show off to everyone." She shook her head. "But when I couldn’t be that anymore, Phillip lost interest in me. And not just me, but in our daughter as well."
Alison looked away. "Actually, I don’t think he was ever interested in our daughter. He certainly wasn’t happy when he discovered I was pregnant with Phyllis. And I couldn’t be what he wanted. I was a mother and just couldn't run off to be with him at the parties and balls he loved to attend." She laughed humorlessly. "Oh, we had money and could hire all the nursemaids and nannies I wanted. But I couldn't leave my daughter to be raised by strangers, which is what he wanted. And when I refused to abandon our daughter, he abandoned me."
"Ali, I would never do that to you," John said.
She gazed into his face. "I think I know that. But it was more than his abandonment of me. He abandoned his child too."
His eyes widened. "Is that what you think I would do to Rebecca and Phyllis? And, God willing, our own children?"
"I don't know," she said, and saw him flinch. Actually she did know. John would never abandon them as Phillip had. "No," she conceded, "I know you would never do that."
He squeezed her hands again. Alison was no longer sure what she was asking him. Or what she wanted. The only thing she knew was that she needed time. Time to think and to be sure.
"I need you to give me some time. Mine and Phillip's courtship was such a whirlwind. We met and married before I even knew what was happening."
She turned and fixed her gaze on him. "Can you give me some time? I don't want to be rushed into another marriage."
His right eyebrow rose dramatically, and she felt her own smile returning.
"We have only been courting this last week," she reminded him.
"Officially," he said.
"Officially," she conceded, and then grew serious again. "Can you give me some more time to get used to all this?"
"I'll gladly give you all the time in the world, Ali."
She relaxed a little. "And please don't 'show me off' to your family and friends. I've done that once before, and I don't think I could bear it again."
He gathered her into his arms, and it felt like she had come home. "Sweetheart, we can do this any way that you want. Quietly or screaming it from the hilltops. All I want is for you to be happy."
Chapter 14
There were very few things in Alison's life that she truly regretted. Telling John she needed more time quickly became one of them. In fact, her stomach did a little jig every time she recalled that morning. He had been so patient with her, despite her near hysterics.
Oh, Alison remembered why she had asked for the time. She had still been filled with doubts about marrying anyone, thanks to her late husband. But John had already shown her just how unlike Phillip he was, and she should have trusted her instincts about him and married him then and there. Regrettably, for years she had projected her image of Phillip onto every other man she had met. Including John.
So, for more than four months Alison had waited in fear of losing him. But he had been true to his word and given her time. And now, after four months of making love, she wanted him to ask her again. Actually, she needed him to ask her again. Because against all the odds, at the advanced age of seven and thirty, she was pregnant with his child. But the one thing she couldn't—or wouldn't—do was use her pregnancy to trap him into a marriage.
Not that she thought he would feel like he had been trapped. He had gone out of his way to show her just how much he loved her and her daughters. And he had mentioned having a child with her on a number of occasions. So she was fairly sure he would want the child that was now growing in her womb.
"Ali, are you listening to me?"
Nudged back to the present, Alison glanced up at Katie. Drifting off and wool-gathering had become commonplace for her lately. She’d like to blame it on the baby, but the truth was, she had been doing it quite frequently since asking John to have an affair with her.
"Sorry," she said, "I was..." Alison didn't know what she was doing.
Katie laughed as she beamed at her. "Daydreaming?"
"Uhmm, I guess so. I've been a little tired lately," Alison said.
Katie snorted. "So was I the first three months. But then I was fine until the last couple of weeks. Now that she’s here, I doubt if I will ever get another full-night's rest. Does it get easier when they get older?"
Stunned, Alison just stared at her friend. She and her husband had just welcomed their newest family member into the world, Lady Imogene Stoughton. Katie had told her that the baby had been born at six pounds, and was no bigger than her father's huge hands. Imogene, according to her mother, was adorable with bright blue eyes and a thatch of carrot-red hair. Alison had been dying to meet the baby. Especially after realizing she was going to have another one of her own.
"How... what... how did you know?" she finally asked. She had only realized it herself the other day, and she hadn't told anyone yet. Alison had wanted John to be the first person she told about the child.
Katie smiled indulgently at her. "Ali, I just gave birth; I know the symptoms." She shrugged her shoulders. "And I have other friends who've been pregnant, so it's not that hard to figure out."
Alison slumped back in her chair and just stared at her friend. She needed to tell John. If Katie and others were beginning to notice the changes in her, then she needed to tell him soon.
"Bloody hell," she muttered.
Katie laughed and shook her head. "Is it really so bad?" she asked.
Alison fixed her with a steady gaze. "For an unmarried woman, yes."
Her friend's eyebrows rose, and she leaned forward on the sofa. "Unmarried because you haven't accepted John's proposal yet. And why? I don't know. You love him. It is as plain as the nose on your face when you look at him. And I know he loves you. He is driving Gabe crazy with his talk of you and the girls."
Alison's shoulders slumped further as she glared at her friend. "He hasn't asked me," she said in a small voice.
Katie's mouth fell open then snapped shut. "Alison Renée Sheiling, that man asked you to marry him four months ago. And the last I heard, he was still waiting on your answer."
"Not lately," Alison muttered.
"What did you say?" Katie demanded.
Taking a breath, she sat back up and tried to glare at her friend. It didn't work, so she ended
up staring over her head. "He hasn't asked me in the last four months."
"Ali?" Katie asked in a soft voice that nearly undid her.
Biting her lip, she rolled her eyes up and stared at the ceiling. "He hasn't asked me to marry him in the last four months," she repeated, then rushed on before she lost her courage. "I asked him to give me some time." Not four months. But then she hadn't specified the time. "And he has."
Katie’s eyes widened. "Then you ask him to marry you."
"I can't do that," she whined.
"Why ever not?" Katie demanded.
"Because... because I don't want to trap him into a marriage with me."
"Oh, bullshit!" Katie snorted.
"Language," Alison reminded her reflexively. Katie was raised around soldiers, so her language could be a bit colorful at times. She'd even asked Alison to remind her when it became inappropriate.
"Stuff that," Katie snapped. "You're avoiding the issue, and you know it. That man loves you. And you love him. Marry him."
"Your Grace," Gravis, Katie's butler, interrupted them.
Katie turned around and Alison took a breath. She was running out of options and she knew it. But she didn't like being badgered by anybody. Even her best friend.
"Mrs. Sheiling has an urgent message from her children's governess, a Mrs. Baker."
Alison's heart froze. The only other time she had received such a summons like this, Becky had fallen and broken her arm. Jumping up, she rushed over and snatched the note from his hands. Ripping it open, she read it twice before calming down enough to understand it.
* * *
Madam,
Miss Phyllis has come down with a cough and is asking for you. Please come as soon as you can.
Amanda
* * *
"I have to go," she said, reading the note for the third time. Amanda was not one to cry wolf. If she was asking Alison to come home, then it was serious.
"What is wrong?" Katie asked.
With her mind awhirl, she only just heard her friend's question. She should have never left this morning. Alison had noticed that Phyllis was grumpy and lethargic. She should have known she wasn't feeling well.
"Phyllis is sick. I need to go home," she answered as she looked around. Katie's face was drawn and her eyes worried. "She should be fine. But she can't keep anything down when she gets sick, and I need to be there to make sure she is alright."
"Yes, go, go," Katie said. "But please send word as soon as you can."
With that, Alison swept out of the room and raced for her carriage.
"Bloody hell man, just ask her again," the Duke of Belfort snapped at John.
"I can't. She asked me to give her some time. She deserves to be courted and not rushed like she was with her first marriage," John replied.
"Rushed? I've seen snails move faster than this. The two of you have been courting for what, six months now? And you've known each other for nine."
John hadn’t asked Ali to marry him again, he’d very nearly broken off the courtship. Not because he didn’t love her-because he did, with all of his heart and soul-but because he loved her so very much he couldn’t stand to put her in harm’s way.
And it wasn’t the danger his former career could place her in. Which initially had been part of the reason he had not asked her again to marry him. No, it was also because of the nightmare that begun plaguing him after his capture and beating. John had woken up fighting and thrashing against the ghost that attacked him during the night.
He was terrified of hurting Ali during one of his nightmares. When he had told her about the them, Ali had soothed him and assured him she had worked with countless soldiers who suffered from similar night terrors. And with her help, he had begun the healing process.
"Four months," John replied.
"What?" Gabe snapped.
The duke was a bear of a man. But over time John had realized that, notwithstanding his gruffness, the duke was very likeable. Despite his vexing habit of snarling at people, something John attributed to his long years as a soldier.
"We have only been courting, officially, for four months, not six," he replied.
The man looked like he was about to clot him in the face. "Four months, six months, nine months, who cares? Ask the woman to marry you."
"I am," he snapped back.
John didn't think he could survive much longer if he didn't make Ali his wife soon. He was just afraid that she would refuse him again. He wasn’t afraid she would stop seeing him. She had become incredibly loving in the last few months. More so in the last few weeks.
And there was no denying that she enjoyed making love to him. She had begun finding more and more ways to get the two of them alone, so they could enjoy each other's company in an intimate way. And when it came to lovemaking, Ali was a very inventive woman. Which was why he and the Duke of Belfort were now standing in a vacant townhome in the middle of Mayfair.
He needed somewhere close they could sneak off to without drawing too much attention to themselves, and he wanted a place to bring her to when they did marry. John couldn't contemplate another outcome, except that eventually she would consent to be his wife.
"Is that why you have dragged me here?" Gabe demanded.
John grimaced. "Yes. I wanted your opinion of the place."
Gabe snorted. "If you wanted that kind of an opinion, you should've brought Katie and not me."
"She was busy," he said. "She and Ali were going shopping today." So he had settled for dragging the duke along.
"Then you should have dragged one of your brothers or your sisters along. I don't know the first thing about buying a proper house for a wife."
He fixed his friend with an incredulous look. "You were born in a house like this."
"So were you," Gabe countered.
"But I've spent most of my life as a solicitor."
Gabe's right eyebrow shot up. His friend had spent longer as a soldier, so the point was taken.
"Alright, fine. I just wanted..."
"Mr. Netterman," James, one of his new footmen, called from the open front door.
Turning, John glared at the man until he realized he was red-faced and breathing hard. "James, what is it?"
"It is Miss Phyllis, sir. The child's governess has sent an urgent message. It seems that the girl has taken ill, and the woman can't reach her mother anywhere."
A cold chill slithered through his chest. "Gabe," he snapped.
"I'll go and find them. I know the shops Katie usually likes to visit. You go take care of the girl."
John reached over and squeezed his friend’s arm, then took off running for the door and his horse. Luckily, he and Gabe had both ridden and not taken the coach as they had originally intended.
Ten minutes later, John was racing up the stairs to Alison's townhome. Mrs. Richardson must have heard him coming as she threw open the door before he reached it.
"How is she?" he demanded as he passed by her, shucking his hat, gloves, and coat as he went.
"She is awful sick, Mr. Netterman. The poor thing started throwing up about two hours ago and can’t keep a thin’ down now."
He turned and fixed her with a hard stare. "Have you sent for her mother?"
She nodded her head quickly. "Mrs. Baker sent a note to the Duchess of Belfort's townhome, sirrah. And I've sent one to the physician as well. But Mrs. Sheiling was going shopping this morning with her Grace, and we were not sure when she would get the note, so I sent one to you as well."
John nodded his head as he headed for the stairs. "I was with the duke when I got your message. He has gone to find his wife and Mrs. Sheiling."
"Oh, praise God," she said, and he could see her ringing her hands together.
Taking the stairs three at a time, he raced up them and then on down the hall to Phyllis's bedroom. Even before he got there, he could hear the little girl crying and coughing.
"Mommy is coming," he heard Becky saying as he stopped at the door.
&nbs
p; The site before him was familiar. With two brothers and a sister, he had seen similar scenes when one of them was ill.
"I want my mum-my," Phyllis wailed.
"I know sweeting, I know."
"Hi, poppet," John said as he crossed over to the bed.
"Uncle John," Phyllis said, and then began coughing.
"Mr. Netterman," Becky said at the same time.
He nodded to Becky and then mouthed, "How is she?"
"She has a fever and a sore throat," Becky whispered back.
"May I?" he asked and nodded at the bed.
Becky smiled up at him, and he thought he saw her sigh with relief. Moving the chair she had been sitting on, John sat on the edge of the bed and took Phyllis's hand in his. It was warm to the touch but not overly so. He slid the back of his other hand up and felt her forehead. Warm, but again not overly so.
"I'm thirsty," she whined.
He saw a glass and pitcher of water on the table beside the bed. "Is this your glass?" She nodded her head, so he filled the glass and held it to her lips. But after a large gulp, she started coughing and then suddenly began gagging and throwing up.
He swept her into his arms and held her over the edge of the bed. A pail sat on the floor. From the looks of it, she had already vomited several times. Unfortunately, most of the contents of her stomach hit his pants and shoes, not the bucket.
"She does that anytime she gets a fever or cough," Becky said from beside him.
Smiling, he glanced up as he rubbed Phyllis's back. "My sister did the same thing."
"What'd you do when she got sick?" Phyllis's small voice asked.
He turned and gazed down into her troubled blue eyes. "We gave her smaller sips of water, poppet. At least until her tummy was a little better."
The little girl smiled up at him. "That's what mummy does too."
Alison skidded to a stop just outside her daughter's room. The tableau she found froze her in the doorway. Her older daughter and Amanda were standing in the middle of the room facing away from her. John was sitting on the edge of the bed with Phyllis draped across his lap. From what she could see, he had fresh vomit soaking his pants and legs. Despite that, he and her youngest daughter were both smiling at each other.
Alison's Scandalous Affair (The Fallen Angels NOVELLA series Book 1) Page 12
