Page 30

thirty

A fter a night of exhausted sleep, Isabella lay still in the bed as Dr. Norris worked.

The laudanum and the tampons had soothed the pain, but her whole body was sore and aching. Just bending her knees required too much energy. She winced as a sting hurt her.

Dr. Norris paused. “Apologies, Your Grace, but it needs to be done.”

She put a hand on her empty belly. She’d been with child for a short time, but she missed it; she no longer carried a life.

“I’ve finished.” Dr. Norris wiped her hands on a cloth. “You will experience more bleeding for a few days, but then it should stop. If the bleeding persists, send for me immediately.”

She glanced at the heap of cloths stained with her blood. How could she be alive after bleeding so much? “How did the duke react when you told him about the baby?”

“Stunned.” The doctor collected her tools and bottles. “Your Grace, it’s not my place, but I guess the duke isn’t the father.”

She shook her head.

“And he wasn’t aware of your condition.”

Another shake of her head.

“The duke showed remarkable control of his emotions although I noticed the change in his expression.”

“Do you think he’ll send me away?”

“I don’t know, madam.” The doctor touched Isabella’s forehead. “Many women, who suffered from what you experienced, get affected by melancholia. Should that happen, send for me.”

If Anthony allowed her to stay.

After Dr. Norris left, Lawson fussed around the bed, adding pillows, cleaning, and changing the stained blankets. When she finished, she stood for a few moments watching her with teary eyes.

“The duke asked me to tell him when you were ready to see him.”

“I owe him an explanation.” Isabella propped herself up on her elbows.

“We can delay the meeting, though. I could tell him you need rest, which is true.”

“No. I want to talk to him now.”

“Very well.”

Lawson helped her sit before leaving the room. There was a quick exchange outside of the door Isabella didn’t grasp. She stiffened when Anthony entered, filling the bedroom with his intense presence.

He must have spent a horrible night too, judging by his dark-circled eyes. Even his jacket didn’t stretch taut across his shoulders as usual, and the scar seemed more evident.

Emotion tightened her chest. He took a tentative step closer as if he didn’t want to make brusque movements that might frighten her. Well, too late. She was scared to death.

“I hope you feel better,” he said, sitting on a chair next to the bed.

“Much better. Just exhausted.” She tugged at the lapels of her dressing gown for no reason.

Where should she start? An apology, an explanation, or a practical agreement on their future? Did he want an annulment?

He leant back, seemingly at ease, but the tension in his neck and hands betrayed his discomfort. He didn’t push her to talk, though.

“I meant to tell you,” she said, although the words sounded lame.

“Before or after the wedding?”

“After. The plan was originally to make you believe the child was yours.” She chanced a glance at him. “I assumed you were eager to consummate the marriage.”

His eyes were as cold and hard as emeralds.

“But the guilt was crushing me,” she said. “I couldn’t find the right moment to tell you the truth, and I was worried about your reaction. I still am. But then last night, when you were here, I did want to tell you. But the spasms became too painful, and I couldn’t speak. I managed the situation poorly, and I apologise for having lied to you.”

He rested his chin on his fist, but his movements were unnaturally slow. “You never meant to marry me.”

She pulled the covers up. “Marrying you was the solution to a serious problem with few choices.” It sounded awful, but there was no point in making it sound less awful.

“Who’s the father?”

She closed her fists. How could she tell him it was Patrick? The truth would destroy him, and she wasn’t sure how he would react. No, she knew. He would be furious, and rightly so.

“I can’t tell you. Please don’t force me to reveal his name. Besides, he isn’t in London anymore.”

He flexed his fingers open and closed. “Were you forced?”

“No.” She turned towards him. “He was honest from the beginning and told me he had no intention of marrying me, that he wanted only to enjoy himself. He had rules about the quick affair.”

“Such a gentleman.” His tone was low and lethal.

“I agreed with his idea. I just wanted to try to be with a man and enjoy myself. I was curious and didn’t want to marry him.”

“Do you love him?” So much pain rang out of his voice.

“No, I don’t. I never did.”

He released a breath through clenched teeth. A long silence, heavy with her guilt, stretched between them.

She cleared her throat. “I guess you want me to leave. I’ll leave as soon as I can travel. Do not worry.”

“No.” The brusque word was an order. “You’ll stay here.”

She was surprised. “Do you still want me to be your wife?”

He rose from the armchair to sit on the bed next to her. A whiff of his cedarwood scent reached her, covering that of blood. “I’m not going to lie. Your deceit hurt me. You tricked me into marrying you, and I’m angry.”

She lowered her gaze because the glint in his eyes was hard to meet.

He took her chin and gently lifted it. “But you almost died, and that had me thinking.”

It made her think as well.

“Think about what?” she said.

“The moments we spent together when we laughed and were happy, were they part of the plan?”

“No.” She gripped his hand. “I enjoyed every single one. They were honest, happy moments.”

If her answer satisfied him, he didn’t show any sign. “Do you care about me at all?” Pain rang out in his voice.

“I do.”

Again, his face remained unfathomable. “My grandmother doesn’t know the child wasn’t mine.”

“Why didn’t you tell her?”

“She wouldn’t forgive you,” he said. “She would want you to leave. Please don’t tell her anything. It’ll only start more discussions and arguments I don’t want to deal with right now.” He exhaled, rubbing his forehead. “I took an oath. I swore to be by your side no matter what, and I meant every word.” He faced her. “No more lies. No more secrets.”

“I swear it. I truly am sorry.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

The only good thing about the terrible situation was that her chest felt lighter now that the truth was out.

“You’re tired.” He stroked her jaw with his thumb, and the kindness in his gesture calmed her quick pulse. “We’ll talk again when you’re better.” He was about to say something else when the Dowager entered.

“Isabella.” She narrowed her gaze at Anthony. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll be back later.”

“I was just leaving, Grandmama.” He stood up. The tiredness and pain on his face made her want to hug him and beg for his forgiveness until he believed her. “I’ll see you later.” He cast a long glance at her before leaving.

“How are you?” The Dowager lacked her usual haughty attitude.

“Tired. Sore. But alive.”

The Dowager sat on the stuffed chair in a swish of silk and lowered her gaze. It had to be the first time Isabella had seen the Dowager so demure.

“Was it me?” the Dowager asked in a whisper. “Did I cause the incident?”

“Heavens, no. I’m sure you didn’t.”

“I upset you with my silly dislike for your pink gowns. You were distraught. I can’t stop thinking your predicament is my fault.”

“It’s not.” She touched the Dowager’s hand.

The Dowager watched her with compassion. “Anyway, I do apologise for having upset you.”

“Water under the bridge.”

“Now tell me how you feel and what I can do for you.”

She put a hand on her tender belly, and a sob came out of nowhere. Maybe the Dowager’s sudden kindness triggered her emotions. Or maybe it was guilt all over again because, during the past months, she’d worried about everything except her child. She’d only thought about how to find a solution for her situation, and now she would never hug it.

“I lost it. It’s dead. I didn’t have the time to realise how important it was for me, but the loss hurt.” It was the first time she’d faced the enormity of her loss.

“Oh, darling.” The Dowager held her in a surprisingly motherly embrace.

Isabella leant against her and cried as if the pain she’d kept inside needed to flow out. The Dowager patted her back, whispering something Isabella didn’t understand.

“I know it hurts. And I’m not going to lie to you, darling. It’ll always hurt.” The Dowager rocked her gently. “People don’t understand that losing an unborn child hurts deeply.” When the sobs died down, the Dowager let her go. “You’re young and strong. Time will help you. I promise.”

“Aren’t you angry with me for having lied?”

“I’m not happy about it. But what happened to you happened to me as well,” the Dowager said so low Isabella barely heard her.

“Did you lose a child? Sorry, stupid question. Of course you did. Anthony’s father.”

“Not only him. I had a miscarriage a few weeks after my wedding, like you. At that time, doctors dealt with miscarriages in a more brutal way.” Each word came out slowly. “Their practice was dangerous and so painful…” She waved a hand. “You don’t need to hear me complaining, just that I know how you feel.”

“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t believe she was holding hands with the Dowager.

“And of course, what Anthony did to you happened to me as well.”

Isabella had no idea what she meant. Anthony had been nothing but kind to her.

“My husband took me before our courtship even began. I told him I wasn’t convinced, but he said everyone did it. I was young and na?ve, and afterwards, what we did left me no choice but to marry him. See, I discovered I was with child, too. George married me, but I felt my choice was taken from me.”

“I’m sorry, but Anthony didn’t…I mean I was happy. I agreed.”

“At least he did the honourable thing and married you, but I shall never forgive him for his poor judgement.”

“Oh, no, please.” She squeezed the Dowager’s hand. “Anthony is an honourable man. He treated me with nothing but kindness. He doesn’t deserve your scorn.”

“But he didn’t risk bleeding to death, did he? He wasn’t thinking with his brain when he was with you. And I don’t understand what took him. He’s always been such a sensible man. He wanted to court you, but then he got impatient. Irresponsible. Not to mention he didn’t send for a physician to visit you regularly in the past weeks. Very poor judgement on his part.”

No, only on her.

“He couldn’t have known that a miscarriage would have happened.”

“He didn’t blame you for losing the child, did he?” The Dowager’s tone promised a swift retribution if the answer were yes.

“Heavens, no. Did your husband blame you?”

“No, not George, but someone else. Those were different times. Women couldn’t even speak of wanting to vote or go to the university. A woman doctor was unthinkable.”

“Anthony is nothing but kind and responsible. I promise. He did nothing wrong.”

The Dowager patted her hand. “I’m touched by your wish to protect him, but see, if he’d waited for the wedding, you wouldn’t have felt pressured, ashamed, or worried. You wouldn’t have been desperate to marry quickly. We can’t exclude the tension of the past weeks caused the incident.”

She hadn’t thought about that. “It’s not Anthony’s fault.”

The Dowager regained her composure. “Anyway. You will focus on getting better. That’s the only thing that matters.” She rose with her usual grace and walked to the door. “Needless to say, you’ll keep all the pink gowns you want.”

Isabella chuckled.