The Viscount's Runaway Wife

by Laura Martin

  * * *

  ‘How was your day?’ Oliver asked, trying to make the question sound nonchalant.

  ‘Fine, thank you,’ Lucy said, not looking up from her dressing table.

  He glanced at her surreptitiously, trying not to alert her to his concern. She’d been acting strangely for weeks—ever since their accident in the library—becoming quiet and a little withdrawn. Oliver had expected her to perhaps worry for a short while and then bounce back. It wasn’t as though there was much chance of them conceiving after just one little slip. But as the days had passed she had got worse rather than better, withdrawing into herself, lost in her own thoughts and barely registering his presence.

  ‘I was thinking of visiting Sedgewick Place in a couple of weeks. There is some business I want to go over with my steward and I thought you could select any clothes you wanted to bring to London for the rest of the Season.’

  ‘Mmm-hmm,’ Lucy murmured as she brushed out her hair.

  ‘We could spend a few days there, enjoy the countryside before the really cold weather sets in.’

  ‘Mmm-hmm.’

  Oliver frowned. She was completely preoccupied and he doubted she was taking in a word he was saying.

  He tried to catch her eye in the mirror, but although she was staring at the glass he could tell she wasn’t seeing anything in front of her.

  ‘We could go crocodile-hunting, track a pride of lions, join some eagles on a flight over the estate.’

  ‘Whatever you think best, dear.’

  He stood, striding over to the mirror and placing his hands gently on Lucy’s shoulders, feeling her jump beneath his palms.

  ‘You’re preoccupied with something. Talk to me.’

  ‘I’m just tired.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Lucy,’ he said quietly.

  She swivelled slightly so she was looking up at him and he saw a mixture of fear and despair in her eyes.

  ‘Whatever it is, we can work it out together.’

  There was a moment of hesitation, as if she might be considering telling him exactly what was troubling her, but then she shook her head.

  ‘There’s nothing, Oliver. I’m fine, just a little tired.’

  With a smile that was nowhere near genuine she set down her hairbrush and stood, taking his hand and leading him to bed. Over the past month they had found themselves sharing a bed more and more, and now he felt bereft if he spent a night without Lucy in his arms. Since the episode in the library when he had climaxed inside of her, their lovemaking had become a little less frequent, but it was still at least a few times a week.

  Climbing into bed behind her, Oliver looped an arm around his wife and pulled her a little closer. He felt her tense under his touch and a sharp stab of pain shot through his body. He didn’t know exactly what Lucy was thinking or feeling, but never before had she reacted in this way to his touch.

  ‘Let me in,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I might be able to help.’

  Wordlessly she shook her head. Oliver couldn’t see her face, but he fancied he felt her take a few shuddering breaths and wondered if she was crying.

  ‘I’m here for you, Lucy.’

  Despite his reassurances, she still didn’t say a word and twenty minutes later, when he felt her body relax into sleep, he felt more distant from his wife than he had in a long time.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘He’s trailing mud all over my clean floors, eating enough to feed three grown men and he dawdles every time I send him out to pick up an order,’ Mrs Finch reeled off a list of Freddy’s less desirable attributes.

  ‘It is still early in his employment, Mrs Finch,’ Lucy said soothingly. ‘And Freddy is just a child. I am sorry if he is inconveniencing you, but if we invest the time in him now he will grow up to be a valuable part of this household.’

  They’d had the same discussion four times over the last few weeks since Freddy’s arrival at Sedgewick House. He was a lively child, maybe not suited to life as a kitchen boy, but nowhere else would take him so it would have to be here.

  ‘Have you seen any improvement?’ Lucy asked.

  ‘I suppose he’s starting to follow orders a bit better,’ Mrs Finch admitted reluctantly.

  ‘He needs us perhaps more than we need him at the moment. He needs someone to believe in him, to give him the start in life he’s never had before. That might mean a little inconvenience here and there, but I’m sure we can cope with that to give a young boy a better chance in life.’

  Mrs Finch grumbled, as she always did, but Lucy could see she’d got her point across.

  ‘Lady Sedgewick, your visitors have arrived,’ Parker said as he descended the stairs into the kitchen.

  ‘Visitors?’ She wasn’t expecting anyone. Since resuming her place as Lady Sedgewick and Oliver’s wife she had contrived not to be at home to most visitors, mainly by not actually being in the house at popular visiting hours, but a few persistent people had slipped through.

  ‘She said you had invited them to come calling. It is Mrs Hunter and her three children.’

  Cursing silently, Lucy stood and straightened her skirts. She’d half-forgotten about the invitation, but there was no way she could turn the woman away now.

  ‘I’ve shown them into the drawing room.’

  ‘Thank you, Parker,’ Lucy said.

  Steeling herself for an hour of swapping social niceties, Lucy ascended the stairs and made her way to the drawing room. Just as she was about to push open the door she heard a giggle of laughter, too young and innocent to be Mrs Hunter—it would be one of the children.

  ‘Annabelle, put that down,’ Mrs Hunter rasped as Lucy opened the door.

  ‘Good morning,’ Lucy greeted the woman and her children. Mrs Hunter stood as Lucy entered the room and Lucy caught a glimpse of the almost bald head of a small baby. She’d known Mrs Hunter had been pregnant—the woman had first shown some interest in the Foundation nearly a year ago, but had delayed her involvement due to the pregnancy—but the sight of the small baby in her arms was enough to send Lucy’s heart fluttering.

  ‘It’s so kind of you to receive us,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘I normally would leave the children at home when out visiting, but their governess left us unexpectedly and they’ve run the maids ragged ever since. I’m sure you know how it is.’

  Lucy murmured in agreement, even though she had no clue as to how it was. Her stint at being a mother had lasted for less than a month and during that time David had been in her arms almost constantly.

  ‘This is Annabelle, my eldest, and this is Alexandra.’ Two pretty girls bobbed curtsies. They looked angelic, but from their mother’s tired visage Lucy suspected they were more difficult than their sweet faces would suggest. ‘And this is Arthur. He’s five months old now.’

  Feeling her heart thump inside her chest, Lucy smiled as Mrs Hunter manoeuvred the baby so she could see his peaceful face. Lips pouted under chubby cheeks and as they watched he let out a contented sigh.

  ‘Please, have a seat. I’ll ring for some tea. And perhaps some lemonade for the girls?’

  ‘Thank you, that’s most kind.’

  Despite being married to a viscount, Lucy was not confident at entertaining visitors. She’d hardly received any visitors during the first month of their marriage at Sedgewick Place. There they’d had no close neighbours and Lucy hadn’t ventured out into the village much or attended the popular local events to meet people.

  Even before marriage, when in London for the Season or at home in Brighton, her mother had done most of the entertaining. Not that they’d ever had many visitors. Her father hadn’t encouraged interlopers into his domain at the family home and when in London they were hardly influential enough for many people to call on them.

  Ringing the bell, Lucy waited for a maid to appear and ordered tea and lemonade, then returned to sit
opposite Mrs Hunter and her children.

  ‘I have to say I wasn’t aware of your marriage to Lord Sedgewick,’ Mrs Hunter said as they waited for the tea to arrive. ‘Did you marry in the country?’

  ‘It was a quiet ceremony. Lord Sedgewick is a private person so we had no announcements,’ Lucy lied, not wanting to explain that the marriage had occurred two years earlier—not recently, as Mrs Hunter was assuming.

  ‘It is very good of Lord Sedgewick to step in and become one of the primary benefactors of the Foundation.’

  ‘Indeed, he is a generous man.’

  ‘I’ve tried to get my husband interested in the work we do many times. He indulges me, but I don’t think he would ever agree to take an active role.’

  Most men wouldn’t. They were often of the opinion that charity work was women’s work, something to keep their wives occupied while they did the important job of making money.

  The baby in her arm snuffled and shifted and Lucy felt a tug in her chest. She remembered that sound, that beautifully contented sound only a very young baby could make.

  ‘...Lady Sedgewick?’

  Lucy’s head snapped up. Mrs Hunter had asked her a question and she’d completely missed it, being too preoccupied with the little bundle in the other woman’s arms.

  ‘Would you like to give Arthur a cuddle?’ Mrs Hunter said kindly, her voice full of understanding.

  She began to say no, but found her body responding instinctively to the offer, rising from her seat and holding out her arms.

  ‘Do you have children?’ Mrs Hunter asked as she passed the small baby over for Lucy to hold.

  ‘We had a son,’ Lucy said, her voice catching in her throat. ‘He passed away when he was very young.’

  Despite finding it difficult to talk about David to people she didn’t know well, Lucy never denied the existence of her son. Even if it led to questions she found hard to answer or platitudes she didn’t wish to accept.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. What a terrible thing to happen.’

  Lucy nodded, trying not to shed the tears that were forming in her eyes and instead looking down at the sleeping boy in her arms. It seemed it would always be painful to talk about David.

  ‘You’d be a wonderful mother,’ Mrs Hunter said quietly. ‘One can see that by the way you are with the children at the Foundation.’

  ‘I’m not sure...’ Lucy said, choking on the few words. She didn’t want to be discussing this, not with Mrs Hunter, not with anyone.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.’

  They fell silent as Arthur shifted, letting out another contented little sigh. Lucy felt a deep yearning, one that she had no conscious control over. This last year, ever since David had died, she had been very hands-on with the older children at the Foundation, but had found it too painful to do too much with the mothers with very young babies. Seeing them reminded her too much of David.

  Looking down at the little baby in her arms, she had a moment’s hesitation. Would it really be so bad if she was pregnant? She might get to experience all this for herself, the joy of waking up every day as a mother again, of quiet cuddles in the early morning with a baby that was wholly dependent on her.

  The warm glow she was feeling was suddenly replaced by a vivid memory of the pain. She recalled the debilitating numbness she’d felt after David’s death, the horrific thoughts she’d been plagued with about ending her own life. Even now she sometimes woke with a feeling of overwhelming sadness, a deep-seated ache for the baby she’d loved more than life itself.

  Lucy was just trying to regain some of her composure when the door opened.

  ‘Lucy...’ Oliver said before pausing as he saw Mrs Hunter and her children. ‘Forgive me—I did not realise you had company.’

  His eyes flitted to the baby in her arms and as she glanced quickly at him she could see the pain behind them. It was selfish, the way she acted sometimes, she knew that, and often she forgot that she wasn’t the only one who had lost a child. Just because Oliver had never got to hold their son in his arms, never got to listen to his steady breathing or contented snuffles, it didn’t mean that losing David had hurt him any less.

  She knew he grieved for their son, knew he had visited the grave on numerous occasions in the past few weeks, and sometimes she caught him staring off into the distance and she was sure he was thinking about the child he’d never got to hold.

  ‘I’m sure you remember Mrs Hunter, from the Foundation,’ Lucy said, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. ‘And these are her three children.’

  ‘Delighted to see you again,’ Oliver said, his eyes still not moving from the baby in Lucy’s arms. He was looking at Lucy warily, as if unable to believe what he was seeing.

  ‘I was just saying to Lady Sedgewick how wonderful it is you stepped in to become a patron.’

  ‘It is a cause that means a lot to my wife,’ Oliver said, ‘and so it means a lot to me.’

  ‘I think the work they do there is just wonderful,’ Mrs Hunter gushed, her words coming out fast as if she wasn’t used to speaking to a viscount, which Lucy supposed she probably wasn’t. Oliver wasn’t an intimidating man when you got to know him, but his upbringing and social polish meant he must seem daunting to converse with to most people.

  ‘Indeed,’ Oliver murmured, but Lucy could tell only a fraction of his attention was on Mrs Hunter. ‘Anyway, ladies, I will leave you. It is a pleasure to have properly made your acquaintance, Mrs Hunter.’

  He was gone before Lucy could utter another word, closing the door quietly behind him.

  Wondering what she could do to speed up Mrs Hunter’s visit, Lucy jumped when the door opened again and a maid came in with a tray of tea and two tall glasses of lemonade. Reluctantly she passed baby Arthur back to his mother while she prepared the tea. Her arms felt empty without the warm little bundle snuggling into her chest and she had to keep her hands busy to stop them from shaking.

  ‘He keeps me up half the night,’ Mrs Hunter was saying. ‘I have a nursemaid, of course, but he doesn’t seem to quieten for anyone but me. By the time he’s been crying for an hour or two the whole house is awake and it just seems kinder for me to take him.’

  Lucy knew most women of higher social status employed wet nurses, nursemaids or even nannies for their young babies. They would do all the hard work, the washing and dressing, the getting up in the middle of the night, while the mothers would see their children when they were properly presented for a limited amount of time every day. It had been similar to her own upbringing—she’d always felt much closer to her nannies than she had her own parents.

  Despite it being the norm, Lucy couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to hand their precious baby over for long periods of the day, only to see them during the quiet times. Of course all mothers got tired and having an extra pair of hands to assist was nothing to turn your nose up at, but she couldn’t imagine ever having wanted to hand David over to someone else.

  ‘He’s lovely,’ Lucy said, finding her voice at last.

  ‘Looks nothing like me, of course, none of them do, but I find I rather like having three miniature variations on my husband.’

  Mrs Hunter was small with dark hair and a fair complexion. All three children had blonde curls, blue eyes and dimples when they smiled. Lucy had never met Mr Hunter, but she was now imagining a rather ridiculous-looking man with swathes of curly blond hair and deep-set dimples not suited to anyone over the age of ten.

  They finished their tea, talking about the Foundation and Mary’s plans for expansion for the future, which Mrs Hunter supported wholeheartedly. As the time ticked by Lucy found she was focusing less on her grief and more on what Mrs Hunter was saying, as well as the antics of the two older girls. They had dug a pack of playing cards out from somewhere and were currently squabbling quietly over a complicated-looking game.


  Mrs Hunter reprimanded them wearily every time it looked like the quarrel would get violent, but Lucy could still hear the affection in her voice.

  ‘Thank you very much for receiving us,’ Mrs Hunter said as she finished her cup of tea. ‘Especially with all the children in tow.’

  ‘Not at all, it has been a lovely morning. We must do this again some time,’ Lucy said, surprising herself with the invitation and the fact that it wasn’t just issued out of politeness.

  ‘That’s most kind, Lady Sedgewick.’

  Lucy watched out of the window as the woman and her children traipsed off down the street. It seemed petty to feel jealous of what Mrs Hunter had and it wasn’t exactly jealousy that Lucy was feeling. More a vague sense of wanting to experience someone else’s life for a few days, just to try it out.

  ‘You received a visitor,’ Oliver said a few minutes later when he walked back into the room. He must have been listening for Parker to show Mrs Hunter out before making a reappearance as it was remarkable timing.

  ‘I have received one or two,’ Lucy said, more defensively than she meant to.

  ‘It is good for you to socialise,’ Oliver said, his smile just a little too bright and his tone just a little too breezy.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Especially with someone you have so much in common with,’ he said. Lucy must have looked blank as he continued after a few seconds, ‘The Foundation, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Adorable baby,’ he said when it was clear she wasn’t going to fill the silence.

  ‘I’m not going to change my mind about a family just because I held a delightful baby for five minutes,’ Lucy ground out, even though her heart had melted when baby Arthur was in her arms.

  ‘I didn’t say anything.’

  ‘It was what you were implying. Baby Arthur was indeed delightful, but Mrs Hunter’s circumstances are very different to mine.’

  ‘Indeed.’ It was his turn to resort to single-word contributions to the conversation.