Page 17 of Starlight and the Duke (Cherish and the Duke #5)

She was going to ask him what he wanted to do, but feared he would respond, “I want to head to the church and marry you,” and she did not have the strength to hear more of that today. Was she not feeling just as much pain about their situation as he was?

And now her stomach was feeling heavy and beginning to cramp because it was coming upon her monthly time. “Never mind. No ices. We had better go straight home after the bakery.”

He glanced at her. “Why the change of heart?”

“I’m not feeling at my best just now.”

“What’s the matter?” He drew up on the reins. “The baker and Brighton can wait for another day. Shall I take you straight home?”

“No, let’s finish our business first. I’ll be fine. Truly, Rob. Do not treat me like a delicate porcelain doll.”

He eyed her warily but did as she asked.

The baker’s son was seated outside the bake shop when they drew up in front of it. Rob hopped out immediately, and then came around to assist her down. “Is that him?”

“Yes,” Fiona whispered. “Look at his slovenly appearance. His apron is dirty. His father would never allow this if he were here.” She peered into the bakery to confirm the father was not inside.

“What is going on here, Holland?” she demanded, steeling her spine and tipping her chin up to look every inch his superior.

“Did your father authorize you to change suppliers?”

The baker’s son rose slowly and cast her an insolent glower. “ I run this establishment now. No one tells me what to do.”

“Where is your father?”

“The shop isn’t his anymore. Ye’re not to bother him, m’lady.”

“That isn’t what I asked you. Where is he?”

The son shrugged. “Home.”

She turned to Rob. “We can walk there. He lives close by.”

Rob did not look pleased, either. But Fiona could not ignore a longtime customer. What if the man needed her help?

She marched around the corner to a small house just off the high street and knocked on the door. The baker himself answered, and he did not appear to be suffering at all. “Mr. Holland? Why is your son in charge?”

“Good morning, m’lady. Is he already giving you headaches? I was afraid this might happen, but did not expect it so soon. You see, I gave the shop over to him just last week.”

“Why? You do not look ill. What happened?”

The man gave a jovial laugh. “Indeed, I am in the pink of health. But I’ve amassed a tidy sum over the years and thought I would do a bit of traveling while I had the chance.

I gave my son the shop and this house. It is all his to tend now, although you and I both know he will lose everything within the year if he does not change his slovenly ways.

But that is his lookout now. He’s full grown and has never done anything for himself in his life. It is time he learned.”

A pretty, older woman came from his parlor to join them at the door. Fiona recognized the butcher’s wife, who was recently widowed, although she did not look much like a grieving widow. “Mrs. Fallow?”

“Would you care to come in, my lady? And you, good sir? You are most welcome as well. I shall put on the kettle for us.”

Fiona shook her head. “Thank you, but we are in a hurry. However, I wanted to make certain Mr. Holland was all right.”

“Very kind of you, m’lady,” the widow said, smiling up at the baker. “We shall be traveling together. Pooling our resources for this next adventure. I daresay we are both well and happy.”

Fiona let out a breath. “Then I wish you a most pleasant journey, wherever your hearts may take you.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, she and Rob walked away. “Wipe that smug grin off your face,” she said.

He held out his arms as though innocent. “What did I do?”

“You are giving me that ‘I told you so’ look and silently chiding me for meddling in the baker’s business.”

“You were meddling, but you were also concerned for him. I’m glad his story had a happy ending.”

She nodded. “Yes, but his son is a toad and will destroy everything this man has built up over a lifetime of toil.”

“It happens to the best of us, Fiona. Wastrel offspring are the bane of too many families to count. Wealth and title does not spare them from the ills of stupidity or sloth. Look at my own family. How did we come to this end? I am the last surviving male heir when there ought to have been five or six in the Durham line ahead of me and another two or three after me. Of the ones who came prior, not one of them died honorable deaths. One drowned, another died in a duel, two of them fell off their horses and broke their necks because they were reckless or drunk, and another died of an unnamed disease probably caught while in a brothel.”

He sighed and shook his head. “That does not even take into account the Durham men in my grandfather’s generation.

He had three brothers and a host of male cousins.

I suppose some of them died honorably on the field of battle and others simply died natural deaths from old age.

But they had more than their share of scandals. ”

“Not you, however. You were perfect, Rob. You have never taken a step out of line. I’ve never met a smarter man or one with better common sense and noble valor. You behave honorably at every opportunity.”

He ran a hand through his hair in consternation. “You call this love fest you and I are indulging in nightly honorable?”

“Yes.”

He laughed. “If you say so. But I don’t think my sticking my…myself in you at every opportunity is something I wish to boast about.”

“Are you ashamed of me?”

“No, you know I am not.”

“There is nothing wrong with what we are doing, Rob. We are doing this because we…” Love each other and are desperate for a solution. “Because we care for each other and want to do the right thing. That means moving on with our lives.”

He cast her a look that warned he was not ready to move on.

But he would have to be.

She said nothing until they were back in the rig and on the road to Shoreham Manor. The sun was at its full height and the breeze had stilled to nothing.

Heat beat down on them, making her wish they had stopped for ices.

But this was out of the question now, because they were too far outside of Brighton.

Besides, she really needed to get home. She placed her hand on her stomach as the cramps became worse and made her want to double over.

She would soon start bleeding, which meant Rob would not come into her bed and there would be no more nightly romps.

Not that any of their love endeavors could be called romps when their hearts were so deeply engaged.

She knew this news would break his heart. He was so certain love could fix everything, that his potent seed would leave her with child.

Perhaps in a perfect world this might happen, but they lived in a world that was often cruel and unjust. The simple truth remained: she was broken and could not be fixed.

Perhaps now he would understand this.

She gasped as the carriage wheels hit several ruts in a row and made her insides lurch. Now her stomach was cramping painfully.

“Oh, hell. Fiona, we’ve hit a bad stretch, but we’ll reach smoother ground in a moment. Did you hurt yourself when we bounced over that last rut?”

“No. It isn’t the ruts.”

He studied her, his expression one of worry. “Then why are you crying again?”