The Viscount's Runaway Wife

by Laura Martin

  They stared at one another in silence for a while before Oliver continued.

  ‘So there is no consequence from our mishap in the library?’

  ‘No.’

  Lucy wasn’t sure why she lied. The word was out of her mouth before she even had chance to consider it. She should have told him that she didn’t know, but it was too early to tell one way or another. All that would have been simple to explain, but instead she took the coward’s way and lied. She supposed it was so he wouldn’t be asking every few days, so she wouldn’t have to see that hope in his eyes when it would contrast so sharply with her own feelings on the matter.

  ‘We leave for Sedgewick Place first thing tomorrow morning,’ he said. Although his voice was strong and unwavering, Lucy could see the disappointment behind his eyes. Perhaps he was more ready to try for a family than she had suspected.

  ‘I will tell Florence to pack. How long will we be away for?’

  ‘A week, maybe two.’

  Lucy bit her tongue and said nothing about being needed in St Giles. She could take the most pressing of paperwork with her, and would use the travelling time to jot down some ideas about how to help Mary in her planned expansion of the charity. Her classes were being more than ably covered by an enthusiastic young man whom Mary had found and persuaded to join them for a few months.

  ‘I will be ready to leave straight after breakfast.’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  They had stopped for lunch at a coaching inn on the very outskirts of London. Oliver had hoped to be further into their journey by now, but it had taken them so long to navigate through the crush of London that they still had a fair distance to cover. He had almost suggested pushing on for another hour, but one look at Lucy’s pale, drawn face and he had instructed the coachman to stop at the next reputable inn.

  ‘You look unwell,’ Oliver said as he helped Lucy from the carriage.

  ‘Just a little nausea from the motion of the carriage,’ she said, giving him a weak smile.

  Admittedly he hadn’t travelled many long distances with his wife in a carriage before, just their trip to Brighton a few weeks previously, but he hadn’t known her to be affected by the motion of the carriage then. It seemed to him to be something he should know about his wife.

  ‘Come and sit down. I’ll get you a drink.’

  ‘I think I need some fresh air,’ Lucy said, resisting his movement in the direction of the inn. ‘Could we take a short stroll?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Quickly he instructed Robertson, the coach driver, to see to the horses and then get some lunch himself, before returning to Lucy’s side. She still looked pale and was taking deep breaths as if trying to quell a persistent nausea.

  Gently he took her arm and led her away from the overpowering smells of the coaching inn’s yard and out on to the road, in the direction they had just travelled. The road was rutted and muddy, but there was a grass verge running along the side which allowed them to walk side by side without getting too dirty. Lucy clutched his arm as they walked and was bent a little at the waist as if really struggling to keep from being sick.

  ‘I didn’t know you suffered from motion sickness,’ Oliver said. ‘There’s so many things I still don’t know about you.’

  She glanced at him, but didn’t reply, and he reasoned she was battling the urge to vomit, although there was a hint of suspicion in her eyes.

  ‘We can rest here as long as you need. There is no rush to get to Sedgewick Place.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Lucy murmured. ‘I’m sure I’ll be quite recovered in a few minutes.’

  ‘I believe food can also help. We’ll make sure you have a good meal before we set off again.’

  Nodding, she quietly agreed, although she didn’t look overly keen at the prospect of food.

  ‘I’m very much looking forward to showing you around Sedgewick Place again,’ Oliver said, thinking a distraction from her nausea might be just what she needed. ‘It has probably changed a little since you were last there.’

  Sedgewick Place was his ancestral home and as such the interior was made up of mismatching designs as the different generations over the years had tried to put their stamp on the old house. When he was growing up Oliver hadn’t taken too much of an interest in the function and decoration of various rooms—after all, he’d never expected the grand Elizabethan house to be his—but once his mother had passed away, he had started to get the urge to make the place into his home.

  ‘No major changes, but a little building work on the east wing and some landscaping of the gardens. Of course I’d be very happy for you to change any of the rooms—the place could do with a feminine touch.’

  ‘I barely know anything about curtains and soft furnishings,’ Lucy said, trying to summon a smile.

  ‘Well, perhaps we could start with our bedroom, make it a little less dingy.’

  The master bedroom at Sedgewick Place was a huge, high-ceilinged room, especially for an Elizabethan house. It had large windows which should have let in plenty of light, but heavy curtains and dark furnishings made the room seem dark and unwelcoming. It still retained a very masculine feel, which he supposed was unsurprising since he’d been the sole occupant for so long.

  Lucy nodded, then clutched his arm, bending forward at the waist and sucking in great lungfuls of air.

  ‘Lucy,’ Oliver cried, seeing the blood drain from her face.

  She flapped her free hand at him, in what he supposed was meant to be a reassuring gesture, and he bit back his next question. If she was concentrating on not throwing up over her shoes, she didn’t need him talking.

  After a minute she straightened back up, but her skin still had an unhealthy green tinge to it.

  ‘Perhaps we should return to the inn,’ Lucy said with a weak smile. ‘I might need some water.’

  Slowly they retraced their steps. They’d only made it a couple of hundred yards from the inn so within a few minutes he’d settled Lucy at a table and was asking the serving girl for a cold glass of water.

  With concern, he watched as his wife sipped from the glass, some of the colour slowly returning to her face as the water settled in her stomach. She closed her eyes for a long moment, her hands holding on to the edge of the table as if using the solid oak surface to steady herself.

  ‘Would you like something to eat?’ he asked once she was looking more like her normal self.

  ‘Perhaps just some bread,’ Lucy said.

  ‘I’ll order a few things from what they have available and you can choose what is most appetising.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She grimaced as another bout of nausea must have overcome her.

  Once again Oliver jumped up to find the serving girl and put in their order for lunch, glad when he was able to focus on doing something practical rather than just sitting there watching his wife suffer.

  ‘I didn’t know motion sickness could persist so long after you stopped moving,’ Oliver said as he returned to the table. ‘Does it normally happen like this for you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Perhaps I’m sickening for something.’ Once again she smiled weakly, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  ‘Once we get to Sedgewick Place we can call the doctor out to see you.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s no need,’ she said quickly.

  The serving girl brought a plate of crusty bread to start before the rest of the food arrived and Lucy gingerly took a bite. She chewed slowly, her brow furrowed as she must have been fighting the waves of nausea.

  ‘Is that any better?’ Oliver asked and was pleased when she nodded, taking another small bite.

  ‘I’m sure I just need something to settle my stomach,’ she said, sipping at her water in between bites of bread.

  By the time the rest of the food appeared Lucy had returned to a normal colour.

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nbsp; * * *

  Once they’d eaten, Lucy excused herself and made her way into the courtyard to get some air. She was no longer feeling sick, but a deep knot of worry had formed in her stomach and she couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Oliver any longer. It felt like every time he looked at her he saw a little deeper into her soul.

  In the twenty-one years she’d been alive she’d never once suffered from motion sickness. Even when winding through the snaking roads of the South Downs she didn’t suffer from even a hint of nausea. It just wasn’t something she’d ever had to deal with.

  There’s always a first time, the optimistic part of her said, but Lucy knew it wasn’t true. What was it Dr White had told her to look out for? Tender breasts, fatigue, nausea. All things she’d been experiencing the past couple of days.

  Realising she was worrying the skin around her thumbnails with her fingers she made a conscious effort to stop all movement. Making her hands bleed wouldn’t solve the problem; she was pregnant and she could no longer deny it.

  Expecting to feel overwhelmed or petrified by the realisation, Lucy was surprised to realise all she felt was numb. She couldn’t process all the emotions. It was as if her body had shut down on her. Every time she contemplated the future her mind blanked out the pictures and the possibilities and she found herself thinking about nothing at all.

  ‘How are you?’ Oliver asked as she re-entered the dining room, the concern etched upon his face. ‘We can stay here tonight if need be.’

  ‘It isn’t yet much past two o’clock, plenty of time to reach Sussex yet.’

  ‘I don’t want you travelling if you feel unwell. It might harm...you.’

  She noticed his slight hesitation and felt her eyes narrow, but didn’t want to open up the conversation, so tried to ignore the feeling Oliver knew her secret.

  ‘I’d rather push on. It’ll be much better sleeping in our own bed.’

  ‘True.’

  He fell silent and Lucy picked up a small piece of bread, pulling it apart with her hands to keep herself occupied and so Oliver wouldn’t notice they were shaking.

  ‘So did you suffer from motion sickness as a child?’ Oliver asked after a few minutes.

  She hesitated, not wanting to lie outright, but not able to see any other way. ‘A little. Not often but sometimes. We didn’t do much travelling.’ That much was true at least.

  ‘I always thought people got it or they didn’t.’

  ‘Evidently not,’ she murmured, not able to meet her husband’s eye.

  ‘And you were absolutely fine on the trip to Brighton—you even had your head buried in the accounts for half the journey.’

  ‘Perhaps it was a bumpier road today,’ Lucy said, clutching at any possible explanation.

  ‘Perhaps, but the road to Brighton is notoriously overused. You would have thought it more liable to wear and tear.’

  ‘I don’t know, Oliver,’ she said wearily. All she wanted now was to put her head down on a soft pillow and sleep for the rest of the afternoon. ‘Can we get on with the journey soon?’

  He went to pay, whistling as he exited the room, far too jolly a tune for Lucy to deal with.

  * * *

  The approach to Sedgewick Place was grand and drawn out, like many important country estates. The drive went on for over a mile, curving this way and that through the rolling hills until a wonderful view of the house was afforded a good five minutes before any carriage actually reached the front entrance.

  If Oliver was honest he still thought of Sedgewick Place as his parents’ house, even though they were both long deceased. He’d never expected to inherit it, so when he did it had taken a lot of getting used to—not only the title and new responsibilities, but the piece of family heritage that had suddenly been entrusted to his care.

  Lucy had fallen asleep over an hour ago, after their fourth stop for her to jump from the carriage to be sick. Each time she’d returned, quiet and subdued, but insisted they carry on with their journey. Now they were approaching the house he didn’t want to wake her; she looked so peaceful with her eyelashes resting against her cheeks. She needed the rest and he wasn’t going to be the one to stop her from getting it.

  As the carriage drew to a stop he saw the staff assembled in front of the huge front door, lined up for the master and mistress of the house despite the late hour. Parker had travelled on ahead to ensure everything was ready for their arrival and always liked to have the staff well turned out for when Oliver stepped out of the carriage. Despite all their efforts tonight the staff would only be greeting him, for he wasn’t about to disturb Lucy’s slumber.

  Stepping down, he twisted and lifted Lucy out in his arms, having to suppress a smile as she mumbled something incomprehensible and snuggled into his chest. She was light, still thinner than she had been when they’d first married two years ago due to a long time of lean living, but he could feel the curve of her bottom under his arms and the swell of her breasts pressed against his chest.

  ‘Would you like me to take Lady Sedgewick, my lord?’ Parker asked quietly.

  ‘No need. I’ll carry her upstairs to the bedroom myself. Is everything prepared?’

  The butler confirmed it was and Oliver nodded in greeting to all the other assembled staff before entering the house. Quickly he climbed the stairs, ducking his head under a low beam and striding along to the master bedroom. It was the same chamber they had shared in the first heady few weeks of their marriage and Oliver hoped it would contain more good memories than bad for Lucy.

  ‘Where are we?’ she murmured as he pushed open the door.

  ‘Home, my love. You rest.’

  Gently he laid her down on the bed, smiling as she rolled immediately to one side, curling up into her usual sleeping position. With a frown he tried to remove her shoes, failing completely with the intricate little buckles and resorting to pulling them off without undoing them.

  He wasn’t sure how comfortable all the layers of clothing Lucy was wearing were, but he couldn’t see a good way to undress her without waking her completely. Instead he shed his own clothing, stoked the fire that was beginning to dwindle in the fireplace and got into bed beside his wife. With a contented sigh she nestled into him and as he blew out the candle he wondered how he could make her so content during her waking hours.

  Oliver knew she was unhappy and it pained him. She was still grieving for their son, which was entirely understandable, but he knew it was hurting her. It was stopping her from enjoying their renewed relationship, stopping her from wanting more children. She was scared, understandably so, but that fear was just adding to her unhappiness.

  As he drifted off to sleep Oliver wondered what more he could do. He’d hoped showing her love and affection would be enough, but now he wasn’t so sure. She needed something more, something he had a horrible feeling she was going to have to work out herself.

  Kissing the nape of her neck softly, he allowed himself to succumb to sleep, hoping tomorrow he would be able to see things clearer.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Although she’d only lived there a short time before fleeing to London, Lucy had always loved early mornings at Sedgewick Place. The master bedroom looked out over the sweeping deer park and the first rays of sun that filtered through the trees and over the hills always made the land look almost magical. Even more so on a day like today when there were wisps of mist lying in the shallow valleys.

  Despite the beautiful view, Lucy only managed to stay at the window for thirty seconds before collapsing back into bed. The awful nausea that had plagued the journey from London was back and this time she had hardly moved. She certainly couldn’t blame it on motion sickness when she’d only taken a few steps from the bed to the window.

  Oliver was still sleeping, that deep, undisturbed slumber he fell into nearly as soon as his eyes closed and remained in for the rest of
the night. She sometimes envied him his sleep, being a restless sleeper herself, and wondered if the ease at which he switched off from the day had something to do with being satisfied with the person he was.

  Closing her eyes and gently resting her head back on her pillow, Lucy tried to focus on quelling the roll of nausea that seemed to want to take over her body. Now she knew she’d been right; the sickness was a sign of the life growing inside her. She’d experienced the same with David, that unmistakable sign that a little baby was taking nest inside her womb.

  I don’t want this, she told herself.

  For so long she’d been adamant she would never get pregnant again, never risk bringing another child into the world to suffer like David had. She felt guilty for the spark of pleasure and anticipation she could feel whenever she thought that she might get to be a mother again.

  That’s not what I want, she told herself more firmly.

  Opening her eyes for a few seconds as the sickness subsided a little, she focused on Oliver. She wondered how he would take the news. He wanted more children, that much she knew, but she wasn’t sure he was ready for them yet. Despite how their relationship had evolved over the past few weeks she could tell he still didn’t quite trust her, wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t run away again. A pregnancy would only complicate things. One day he would probably want to be surrounded by a brood of children, but not yet.

  Lucy knew that in Oliver’s eyes everything had a set order. First he had to learn to trust her again, which she knew he was slowly beginning to do as they allowed themselves to get to know one another better, to enjoy each other’s company. Then he might be ready to consider more children. They weren’t there yet, but one day...

  In Lucy’s mind the major factor holding her back was her grief. Grief over what had happened to David, concern that it might happen again. She knew Oliver mourned their son deeply, too, and before they could even consider having any more children they would both have to deal with that grief and the fear that they might lose another child, too.