by Rose Gordon
That was the last they’d spoken of it until a few weeks later when she approached him with the news she’d once again conceived...
And now, here he stood in his hallway, looking at a bleary image of a physician while some vile scent filled his nostrils.
“Lord Drakely!” the doctor yelled.
Patrick blinked. “Yes?” Why was the man fanning him? And more importantly, why was he waving Abigail’s bag of smelling salts beneath his nose.
“You swooned, my lord.”
Patrick twisted his lips and made to stand up, his legs terribly unstable. “No, I didn’t swoon.”
“Yes, you did, my lord. I was talking to you one minute, then you were on the floor the next.”
“That may be,” Patrick conceded, rubbing the painful knot he’d just discovered on the back of his head with one hand and bracing the other against a credenza to help keep him standing, “but just to be clear. I fainted, not swooned. Ladies, swoon. Gentlemen, faint.”
“Yes, my lord,” the physician said with a weak smile. “But all the same, my lord, it’s time for you to be the strong lord of the manor—even if that means tucking this packet of smelling salts into your breast pocket to keep you from fainting again.”
“And why do I need those?” He cast a look into the bedroom and swallowed at the sight of Abigail’s lifeless body, snippets of the doctor’s previous words running through his head.
The doctor sighed and wiped his brow. “I do not have time to explain it all again, Lord Drakely. She needs you. If you don’t go in there―” he gulped― “if you don’t go in there, she won’t make it.”
“Are you certain?’
The doctor nodded. “She may not make it anyway, but if you’re in there, she might have a better chance.”
“A better chance?”
The older man nodded again. “She’s very weak, my lord. She can hardly push. If she waits any longer, you’ll lose both her and the babe.”
For a brief moment, terror and panic seized him, then he glanced in that room again, and his resolve was restored. He’d put Abigail in this position, and like always, he’d get her out. He marched into that room like a general marches off to war, burying his emotions and forcing himself to accomplish his goal. His goal: see both Abigail and their child to safety. That was it. Nothing too complex, or daunting.
Oh, how wrong he was.
Two hours later, Patrick almost gave into his wife’s pleas to just cut the baby out without regard to her fate. But he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t let her down. Especially knowing this was all the result of his own selfishness.
“Just a bit more, Ab,” he crooned, clasping her shoulders and helping her roll to a partial sitting position. Why wasn’t she doing anything to help him? Was she that weak? He glanced at the amount of blood on the far end of the bed. He’d never seen so much in his entire life. He swallowed, and pushed the thoughts from his mind.
“I can’t do anymore,” Abigail said with a sob.
Patrick eased her back against the pillows to let her regain what little strength she might. “Yes, you can. Just be strong. You can do this. Do it for me.”
She shook her head against the pillows. “No. I’m done. I’ve enjoyed Celia and Helena, I truly have, but I have nothing left in me now.”
“Yes, you do,” he said firmly. “The difference is, you’re not trying.”
“I know,” she agreed. “I’m not strong enough for you, Patrick. I never was, and you’ll always resent me for it. Just let me go.”
His breath caught. “Go? Go where?”
She didn’t respond.
“Is this because of what happened in my study?” he asked. He had to know. Was she punishing him for his sharp words and insinuations that led to her begrudgingly inviting him to her bed only to conceive once again?
She closed her eyes.
“Abigail Ramsey, you open your eyes right now. We’re not done here. You don’t have to answer my question, or even speak to me again, but you will see this through. You cannot give up.”
“Yes, I can.” And with those whispered words, she let her right hand release its hold on the coverlet and fall to the side, lifeless.
“No, Abigail,” he said, dropping to his knees on the wooden floor. His hands came up to frame her face. She was so still. Under his fingers, her skin became chilled. Blinking rapidly to dam up his wave of emotion once more, he could only nod to acknowledge the doctor’s slight cough.
“I believe the babe is still alive, my lord.”
Patrick took his fingers from Abigail’s face as if her skin had burned him rather than had been turning to ice. He gave another terse nod in the doctor’s direction to give him permission to do what he thought necessary, then left the room to go wait in his study and steel himself for the news of yet another loss today.
On his way, he passed Mrs. Jenkins with Celia and Helena in tow. Heedless to his state of disarray and Mrs. Jenkins’ curious stare, he reached his arms out for both girls, and carried them to his study with him.
Squeezing his daughters tightly to him, he sat down on the settee, and for both the first and last time he could remember, held nothing back as silent tears coursed down his cheeks.
***
“Patrick,” Marcus said, jarring him to present.
Patrick removed his hands from the walls, and shoved them into his pockets. “I was just...”
“I know,” Marcus said softly.
Patrick nodded. Marcus probably did know exactly what he’d been thinking about. Ironic how they’d met and become friends the day of Marcus’ accident, a time when Marcus needed someone the most. And a time when Patrick needed someone the most, it had been Marcus who had come to his side. He’d been the one who, though never summoned by Patrick, had arrived at Briar Creek just in time to be the one to tell Patrick that while Abigail hadn’t survived the day, by some miracle Kate had. Patrick swallowed, and clenched his fists, struggling to stay composed.
“If you’d like to go home, you’re welcome to. I’ll see to it Juliet gets back safely.”
“Thank you, Marcus, but no. I’ll wait for her.”
“Are you sure? I know Olivia’s screaming can only be―”
Patrick waved him off, and forced a slim smile to his lips. “I know she’s not dying.”
Marcus blinked. “You do?”
“Yes, she’s the type who no matter what happens, will live through it.” He snorted. “I’d wager she’ll have a graveside seat at all our funerals.”
Marcus grinned. “You’re likely right. Would you like to come sit with me?”
“Very much so. And while we wait, I’ll fill your mind with all the little joys you’ll soon get to experience at the hands of your brat.”
Chuckling, Marcus said, “I look forward to it.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lord Watson added, coming up behind Marcus.
Chapter 24
Juliet had never had so many emotions in such a short span in her entire life. One second she was calm and secure in her role of encouraging Olivia through her delivery, the next she was on the verge of losing her temper with that dratted woman and tempted to throttle her. Of course, from there she felt a crushing wave of exhaustion, and dare she admit: defeat. But then, finally, with one last ear-piercing scream, Olivia delivered her baby, and spouted some sort of unsavory comment nobody was inclined to listen to. All attention was being given where it should be: to the little baby Emma was so tenderly cleaning in the corner.
After Juliet and Caroline murmured their greetings and congratulations, they left Emma’s side to help clean Olivia as much as she’d allow.
“If you’d like, I can send Marcus up,” Caroline offered to Emma after she pulled a clean sheet up to cover Olivia.
“No,” Olivia said sharply, startling Juliet. “I don’t want that fiend near me. Do you know where he intends to send me?”
The room grew silent for what felt like an hour, but couldn’t have been more than two min
utes. “You do know why you’re going, don’t you?” Caroline asked.
“Yes, because Marcus is a fiend who delights in seeing people miserable.”
“No, Olivia,” Caroline said. “That description doesn’t describe Marcus in the least. It perfectly fits you, however.”
“I demand you apologize this instant, Caroline,” Olivia hissed.
“No.” Caroline said simply before turning to Emma. “Are you ready to go find Marcus?”
Emma nodded and cast a tentative glance at Olivia, perhaps looking for some sort of sign that she was doing the right thing separating a mother and her child like this.
Emma didn’t have to wait long for solid confirmation. Olivia’s next words, so brutal and cruel left little doubt in anyone’s mind that Marcus and Emma were not only doing the right thing by adopting her child, but that they also had Olivia’s blessing.
Squeezing her blanketed bundle to her breast, Emma exited. Anger bubbling in her stomach at Olivia’s heartless statement, Juliet was right behind her.
“Don’t pay her any mind,” Caroline whispered to Juliet. “As I said before, her words about Marcus fit her better than most of her gowns.”
Juliet smiled weakly at Caroline’s jest and dabbed her eyes. Should she ever be blessed to have a child, she’d love and protect that child with everything she had, and never be as cold and heartless as to―to― She couldn’t even force herself to think of it any longer.
Straining to smile, Juliet followed Emma into the drawing room where the men were waiting.
Lord Sinclair nearly leapt from his seat at the sight of his wife carrying their child through the doorway. “May I?” He gestured to the baby.
Emma nodded and handed her husband the baby. “You can announce his name, too, if you’d like.”
“His name?” Lord Sinclair repeated, beaming down at the little boy who was now safely in his papa’s arms. A moment later, he looked up and cleared his throat. “Emma and I thought we’d follow Alex and Caroline’s example and use the name of the person who played the largest part in securing our match―”
“But since Marcus doesn’t know just who that is,” Emma broke in laughingly.
Marcus shrugged. “What can I say? It took a lot of convincing to make me see reason. Anyway, instead of giving him a name so long it wouldn’t fit on a portrait plaque, we decided to name him Jack in honor of our four closest friends.”
Juliet’s heart squeezed at their sweet gesture. She looked around the room, letting her eyes land on the individuals who made up the other letters to Jack’s name. Her eyes narrowed when she got to Drake. Obviously she was the J, and Alex and Caroline the A and C, but how had they gotten a K from Drake? She shook her head, probably because of the K in both Drake, and Patrick. That was the only logical solution.
“Are you ready to go, Juliet?” Drake asked. His tone was flat, and his expression unreadable.
“Of course.” She said her goodbyes and extracted a promise that when she came to Ridge Water later in the week she’d get to hold Jack, but the promise was only agreed upon after she threatened not to leave the day of her visit if she didn’t get to hold him.
The carriage ride back to Briar Creek was quiet which, considering all that had happened that day, was a welcomed change. Juliet was not only weary from spending so much time at Olivia’s bedside, but she was still trying to make sense of her conversation with Caroline and Emma earlier in the day.
She glanced over at Drake and by the moon’s dim glow shining into the carriage she could see his set jaw and lowered eyelids. Not closed exactly, just lowered.
“Why don’t you go on up to bed, I’ve something I need to take care of,” Drake said when the carriage came to a stop and he’d helped her down.
“A―all right. Will you be joining me shortly?”
“Of course, just give me a little bit of time.” The sadness filling his tone tore at Juliet’s heart. In all her excitement of the day, she’d forgotten that Drake’s first wife died in childbirth. How could she have been so heartless as to even mention the impending birth today, not to mention asking him to join her at Ridge Water?
Juliet swallowed. “Drake, I―I’m sorry if it upset you to go with me today.”
He shook his head. “It’s all right, Juliet.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I just need a few minutes alone.” He escorted her up to the front door. “I’ll be my usual self tomorrow, I promise.”
And true to his word, he was.
“Here, I have something for you,” Drake said, placing a breakfast tray down on the bed. Then he handed her spectacles to her.
Juliet slipped on her spectacles, then sat up and pushed a fluffy pillow behind her back. “It all looks delicious,” she said, letting her eyes roam over the array of pastries on the tray.
“Eat your fill. I’ll just sit over here and wait to eat the crumbs.”
She swatted him on the shoulder. “You’re terrible.”
“I know.” He reached forward and took a scone.
“Good, aren’t they?”
He nodded mid-chew. “What are your plans for the day?”
She blinked. “I don’t know yet. I’m still in bed.”
“I can see that.” His eyes did a slow sweep of her, lingering for an extended moment on her thinly covered breasts.
Blushing, Juliet took the last sip of her tea.
“Would you care to go somewhere with me?”
“Sure.” She put her teacup down. “Right now?”
“I can wait for you to get dressed first.”
“Well, I should hope so.” She got out of bed and called to him. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to help me?”
“No. I’ll send Mary in to help you.”
“Oh.” With the exception of the occasions when they had to get dressed in their best clothes, Drake had taken to helping her dress. She was hesitant to accept his help at first, but she rather enjoyed it now and would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit she was slightly disappointed he wouldn’t be helping her dress this morning.
An hour later, Juliet was dressed in her best pink day dress and walking into Drake’s study.
“All ready?” he asked, getting to his feet. He came around the desk, and as was their custom when they went on walks, took her hand instead of offering his arm.
She gladly held his hand in return, and gave it a gentle squeeze with her fingers. He smiled down at her then intertwined their fingers.
“Is everything all right?” Juliet asked after they’d been walking for twenty minutes and he hadn’t said a word.
He nodded.
“No it’s not. I can tell by the look on your face. What’s wrong?”
“I have to make a trip to London,” he blurted.
She blinked up at him. That wasn’t something so out of the ordinary that would make him act so strange. “All right, when do we leave?”
He coughed. “We?”
“Yes, we.” She frowned. “You were thinking of making this a family trip, were you not?”
“Not exactly,” he said, looking everywhere but into her eyes. “Not that I wouldn’t love for you and the girls to join me, I would. But I just thought this time I’d go alone.”
Hurt pierced Juliet’s heart. Why did he want to go to London without her? Glancing away so not to give away how much she was hurting, she nodded. “When do you leave?”
“Tonight.”
She swung her gaze back to his. “Tonight?”
“Yes. I want to get there at a decent time tomorrow night so I am well prepared for my meetings day after tomorrow.”
She frowned. “All right, I guess there’s nothing to say except that I’ll see you when you return.”
“I look forward to it,” he said, leading her back to the house.
They finished their walk in silence and later that day she stood out front to wave him goodbye as he climbed up into his carriage to leave. Though he’d been acting a litt
le strange today, he’d been better than last night. No matter. He’d had a traumatic day yesterday, and for as much as she’d liked to have believed everything would be back to normal today, she knew better. He needed time, and going to London alone would allow him that time.
She’d just need to be patient and ready for when he came back.
***
Patrick clamped his hands together in his lap to keep from throwing open the door to the carriage and running back to Juliet. Last night had been pure torture lying with her in his arms, knowing he couldn’t touch her, and probably never would be able to again.
Going to London was just what he needed. It would be easier getting accustomed to the idea of not being able to touch and kiss Juliet if she weren’t around to tempt him. And everyone, including himself, knew she was too much of a temptation for him. From her silken hair to her perfectly sized breasts to the rest of her firm body, she was a treat to behold. A treat he’d forced to make herself available to him in the past, but not anymore. From now on, he’d hold her and touch her softly so not to hurt her like he’d hurt Abigail.
Old feelings of remorse and self-loathing washed over him at the mere thought of her name. He shoved the thoughts aside. He might have done wrong with Abigail, but he’d do right by Juliet, he’d be damned if he didn’t.
Unfortunately, a week in London did nothing to curb his desire. Actually, it just stirred it to new heights. But it was time to go home. He missed his girls, and for as much as he wished it weren’t so, he missed Juliet and was ready to go back to her even if it meant lying beside her in a state of torture. At least he’d still be beside her, he reasoned as the carriage turned into the drive.
It was well into the evening by the time the carriage came to a stop, far too late for his girls to be awake. But Juliet would be. He swallowed. What would she say to him? It had been obvious something had been wrong when he’d left. For as much as he’d tried, he’d not been able to hide completely behind a mask. Likely, she thought he was distraught over the birth of Marcus’ son. Though she was right to some degree on that score, he’d rather admit to that being the sole cause of his distance than tell her the shaming truth of his past.
