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twenty-nine

A nthony waited for Dr. Norris in the sitting room.

Isabella’s terrified face and her screams of pain would forever stay in his memories. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece thundered. Each second without news about Isabella was a stab.

Not a sound came from the upper floor. The coming and going of the servants had stopped a while ago, and no one was telling him bloody anything. He should march to Isabella’s bedroom and demand to know what the hell was happening to his wife.

“Being so nervous won’t help.” Grandmama was perched on the armchair, sipping tea as if it were a normal evening. “Bad news travels fast. I’m sure it’s a case of indigestion.”

“It seemed more serious than that.” He paused next to the door, trying to catch any noises. A faint scream reached him, but he might be mistaken.

“She has had problems with her stomach for a while,” Grandmama said in a voice that lacked confidence.

Rogers opened the door. “Your Grace, Dr. Norris is here to see you.”

“Finally.”

The doctor’s short stature didn’t diminish the aura of competence and authority she radiated. He tried not to look at what seemed to be a blood stain on her skirt.

Rogers shut the door once the doctor was in.

She bowed her head, cheeks flustered. “Your Grace.”

“How’s my wife?”

Dr. Norris put down her bag, her face tense. “I’m sorry to inform you that Her Grace lost her child.”

“What the—” Anthony didn’t finish the sentence, letting the words sink in. Or rather, one word.

Grandmama’s eyes flared wide, but her lips remained pressed together in an expression that could be mistaken for deep sorrow and not shock.

Isabella had been with child. Anthony tried to contain the pang in his chest, the dark thoughts cramming his mind, and the need to get answers.

“I understand it’s a shock,” Dr. Norris said. “Unfortunately, there was a massive bleeding that?—”

Lawson barging into the room interrupted her, pushing the door open hard enough to slam it against the wall.

“Dr. Norris!” she said. “You can’t talk now.”

Grandmama rose from the armchair, fists clenched. “How dare you come here like that? Leave this room immediately.”

“Dr. Norris.” Lawson shook her head, and wisps of her hair flipped around her flustered face.

“Leave,” he ordered. “I must know how my wife is.”

Lawson shot him a glare he returned. Finally, she dropped a quick curtsy before leaving as quickly as she’d arrived.

He exhaled through clenched teeth. “What were you saying, doctor?”

Frowning, Dr. Norris glanced from the door to him a couple of times. Then her eyebrows lowered as if she’d just realised something. “The duchess suffered a major bleeding that caused the miscarriage. Unfortunately, the first phase of a pregnancy is often the most dangerous. She’s weak and might develop a fever in the next few days. The afterbirth is still attached, so I will apply warm tampons and change them every hour. That will allow me to remove the afterbirth tomorrow morning without causing further distress for the duchess.”

“Is Isabella risking her life now?” Grandmama asked, sitting down again.

Dr. Norris hesitated before answering. “The bleeding stopped for now, and the risk of infection is low. But caution is of extreme importance.”

He seemed to choke on his own breath at the thought of Isabella dying.

“The duchess is young and healthy,” the doctor said. “This unfortunate incident won’t compromise her ability to carry children in the future.”

He nodded, staring at the flames in the hearth. If he asked more questions about the pregnancy—how far exactly was Isabella? Were the stomach problems due to the pregnancy? Did the doctor know who the father was?—both the doctor and Grandmama would realise he knew nothing about Isabella’s condition.

She would be blamed for having deceived him, for deceiving everyone. Grandmama would ask him to send her away or even to get an annulment. More importantly, Isabella’s life would be a nightmare. His reputation would recover. Hers wouldn’t.

“What else does the duchess need?” Grandmama asked in a practical tone that masked her surprise.

“Meat, not overcooked,” Dr. Norris said, “absolute rest for at least a week. The duchess must not leave her bed until I’m sure the bleeding won’t start again. Plenty of soups and tea. Her room needs to be warm and dry at all times. The bedsheets must be changed every day. And of course…” She glanced at him. “Your Grace, no intercourse.”

Grandmama arched her brow but said nothing.

“May I see my wife?”

“She’s asleep now, but yes, as long as you don’t tire her. The duchess was lucky. Many women die from a miscarriage like that. Please do take that into consideration in the next few days.”

“What do you mean by that?” Grandmama said, letting her temper slip.

Anthony had a hunch. “My secretary will pay your bill tomorrow, and I’ll have a room prepared for you for tonight, doctor.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” The doctor picked her bag up and seemed about to say something else, but then she curtsied and left.

The moment Dr. Norris closed the door behind her, Grandmama sprang up to her feet and glared at him with such fierceness he expected the whole house to burn to the ground.

“She was with child.” She clenched her fists, trembling. “How stupid of me not to realise that! The signs were there.”

He leant against the wall. How stupid of him as well. The hurried marriage, the sobbing, the quick mood changes, the talk about honesty—everything made sense now.

She strode to him. “You took her before she agreed to marry you because, of course, she was already carrying your child during the ceremony. Otherwise the afterbirth wouldn’t be such a problem.”

He was about to protest his innocence, but that meant blaming Isabella, and while she was at fault, he needed to hear her side of the story first. Again, he chose silence.

“That’s the reason for the hurry.” Grandmama’s eyes were ablaze with anger. The fact she was as tall as he was made her stare impossible to escape.

He scratched his chin. “Grand?—”

“I haven’t finished! So don’t talk. I don’t want to hear your pathetic excuses.”

The harsh, angry tone caught him by surprise. She’d never given him an order without respect or affection.

“Isabella was forced to marry you. She had no choice.” She pointed a finger at him. “You took away that choice from her. I thought you were better than that.”

He swallowed hard, pushing down the urge to tell the truth.

“I’ve always thought Patrick was the flippant one between the two of you, but what you did to that poor girl is inexcusable.” Her voice cracked with sobs. “I know she had a role in this. I know she has her share of guilt, but heavens, you’re older than she is and have experience, and you should have controlled yourself. You should have been careful with her. Protect her.”

He worked his jaw, struggling to keep his temper down.

Grandmama wasn’t finished. “You’re my grandson! You’re a duke of the House of Beaufort, and you’re going to take your responsibility.”

“Of course, I’m going to,” he gritted out. “That’s what I’ve bloody done so far.”

“Mind your language with me! You aren’t the one lying in a bed, half dead. You don’t risk your reputation and title. If the truth comes out, the blame will be on that poor girl.”

He squeezed his lips together, gathering the patience to listen to a sermon he didn’t deserve. But Grandmama was right, and Isabella needed his protection.

“By taking her before marriage, you ruined her. She had to marry you. When you told me you wanted a quick wedding, I didn’t think, not even for a moment, that Isabella might be with child, because I trusted you. I was sure you wouldn’t have taken her like a beast in heat. I was sure you would have never, ever deceived me by omitting she was with child. And as a consequence, she nearly died. How wrong I was. I shall never forgive you.”

Clamping a hand on her mouth, she hurried out of the room, leaving him aching as if a dozen pugilists had punched him in the chest at the same time.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. The evening was one shock after the other. First Isabella’s pregnancy, now Grandmama’s outburst. It was the first time he’d seen his grandmother losing her temper like that.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths before going upstairs. A couple of maids were whispering in a corner but fell silent when they spotted him.

“Your Grace,” they said together, curtsying.

There would be rumours, gossip, and blame thrown around, but he’d be damned if he tolerated them in his own house.

“Return to your rooms.”

The maids almost tripped in their haste to obey.

He knocked on Isabella’s door. “Isabella.”

A teary-eyed, fierce-looking Lawson opened the door. She didn’t greet him, and he didn’t give a damn. He brushed past her, twitching his nose at the unmistakable smell of blood mingled with that of carbolic acid.

Isabella lay among cushions in the bed, pale and her breathing soft. Even without the doctor’s diagnosis, he would have guessed she’d risked dying. It was as if the very essence of life had been sucked out of her body, leaving her bloodless.

Lawson was on him like a hawk. “What are your intentions, Your Grace?”

He was growing tired of being disrespected.

“She can’t leave the bed,” she said. “She might die if she does. I beg you, you can’t throw her out now, nor tomorrow. The duchess is like a daughter to me.”

Also, he was growing tired of people assuming horrible things about him. “I won’t tolerate your tone any longer, Lawson.”

“Your…”

“Leave or you’ll search for new employment.”

She lost some of her fierce attitude. She glanced at Isabella before dropping a quick curtsy and leaving.

Finally.

Once alone, he allowed his emotions to overwhelm him. He wasn’t sure how he felt. There was worry about Isabella. He could have lost her. If she’d told him she was with child, a physician would have come regularly to visit her and perhaps she wouldn’t have almost died.

On the other hand, she’d lied to him; she’d tricked him into marrying her. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t angry and ashamed of how easily he’d believed her. How easily he’d believed she didn’t care about his scarred face.

But he understood why she’d lied. Almost. The father of the child must have refused to marry her, was already married, or wasn’t in her life anymore. Without getting married, she would have faced poverty and starvation. Like Lady Mary.

Everything made sense now.

He gently took her hand and held it, glad to find it warm. In front of her paleness and weakness, it was difficult to stay angry. She fluttered her eyes open, and for some reason, he felt like a thief caught red-handed. A quick breath escaped her, and her chest rose under the covers.

“Anthony. I’m…” She swallowed a few times with difficulty. “I know…” Her grip on his fingers lacked strength.

“You need rest. Don’t talk. I only wanted to see you for a moment.” He released her hand and tucked her arm under the covers. “Dr. Norris was clear. Absolute rest.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. But we’ll talk when you’re strong again.”

She blinked the tears away.

“Sleep.” He caressed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about anything. Just get better.”

He waited until fatigue overwhelmed her again and she fell asleep. He wanted to stay with her all night, perhaps sleeping on the chair or the sofa, but she might get too agitated, and he didn’t want to cause her further distress or get in the doctor’s way.

He found Lawson in the corridor pacing with her arms folded over her chest. She straightened when he closed the door.

“If you need help taking care of the duchess, ask Rogers and he’ll send you the maids. If anything happens, call me immediately. Dr. Norris will sleep here tonight.” He went to his room before she could talk.

He lay in his bed, suddenly exhausted. His pride hurt after Grandmama’s speech.

And his heart was broken by Isabella’s lies.