Waking Up With the Duke (22 page)

“Look at me, Jayne. Look at me.”

His voice was calm, firm, demanding. She gazed into his beautiful green eyes.

“You will not lose this child. Do you understand?” he asked. “You will not. I will not allow it.”

She drew comfort from his confidence. Did he ever have any doubts at all about anything?

“What’s going on here?” Walfort asked.

She saw the battle work itself out over Ainsley’s features. He did not want to leave her, but it was not his place to be here.

Stoically, he released her, stepped back and faced her husband. “She swooned. I’ve sent for my physician. As soon as he— No. We need not wait. Mercy. Mercy was a nurse in the Crimea.” He spun around. “Mercy!”

He staggered to a stop. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” Mercy said, marching into the room. “I thought I might be needed.”

She came around to the other side of the bed and took Jayne’s hand. “Everything will be all right.”

“I don’t want to lose this child.”

“Of course you don’t.” She turned her attention to the men. “Out now. Both of you.”

“I need a quiet moment with my wife first,” Walfort said.

Mercy nodded, stepped away and began issuing orders to the servants. With obvious reluctance, Ainsley walked from the room.

Walfort rolled forward. He peeled the glove from her hand before closing his fingers around it, skin against skin. He studied their clasped hands as though he’d never seen them before. “Ainsley is right, you know.” He lifted dark eyes to hers. “You won’t lose this child. We won’t allow it.”

She placed his hand against her side. “I felt it move today. I should have told you. I want you to be able to feel it, too.”

“And I will. As soon as— Oh.”

She could barely see him through her tears as she said, “That was it. That was the baby.”

“He’s a strong bugger.”

“I think he will be, yes. Or she. He could be a girl.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed. He nodded. His eyes grew damp. He placed his head near her hip and wept. As though all the repercussions of what they’d done had finally hit him.

But she didn’t know if they were tears of sorrow or joy.

Chapter 23

T
hey waited in the library. He and Walfort. Drinking whiskey, each lost in his own thoughts. The excitement in the ballroom had dissipated with his rapid departure, Jayne in his arms. Claire, with her usual aplomb, had promptly ended that portion of the night’s festivities. A late night repast had been prepared and the guests summarily retired to their respective chambers.

Or so Westcliffe had reported to Ainsley. He knew he should give a fig that he had a residence filled with guests and that on the morrow his mother would marry, but at the moment he cared only about Jayne.

The physician arrived, nearly an hour ago. With each passing moment, Ainsley’s worries increased. He’d promised her that she’d not lose the child. He didn’t have a clue regarding how to keep the promise.

“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?”

He glanced over at Walfort before returning his attention to his whiskey.

“I’ll assume your silence is a yes,” Walfort said.

“Assume whatever you damned well please.” He shoved himself out of his chair. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t?” He stormed to the fireplace, tempted to toss his glass into the flames. He wanted a conflagration that equaled the one inside him. He pressed his forearm to the mantel. “You’re married to her. You had her in your bed every night. You had her at your table every morning.”

He spun around. “Whatever possessed you to keep your mistress? What possible purpose could she have served except to ensure you didn’t honor your vows? By God, Jayne deserved a man who would keep the vows he made to her.”

“I loved her. My mistress. I still do. Maybe that’s the reason I drank so much that night. I wanted to forget I had a wife waiting for me at home. A wife with child. Maybe I wanted to wash away the guilt. I was betraying two women at the same time. I didn’t feel good about it, Ainsley, but duty—”

“Duty be damned. Jayne deserved your faithfulness.”

“With your reputation, with all the thighs you’ve parted, do you think you’d have had better luck at it, at not straying?”

“I know I would have.”

“You self-righteous prig. You were as drunk as I that night. From what were you trying to escape? Your bachelorhood, your wealth, your title? You had it all. Everything. You still do! Including your damn legs!”

“I don’t have Jayne.” As soon as the words were spoken, he regretted them. Damnation. He slammed his hand against the mantel and cursed again.

Walfort, as though he recognized that Ainsley’s temper was close to boiling, returned to his brooding silence, sipping his whiskey. Ainsley stared at the fire.

That was how the physician found them a few moments later. One sitting, one standing, both staring. Ainsley fought not to grab Dr. Roberts, shake him and ask after Jayne. He was not her husband. He could not overstep his bounds here without causing speculation, so he bit back all the questions that plagued him.

Dr. Roberts nodded at Ainsley—“Your Grace”—before approaching Walfort. “M’lord.”

“How does my wife fare?”

“Quite well. Too much excitement I’d say. What with the dancing and all. Not uncommon for a woman in her condition. Let her rest for a day or two and she should be right as rain.”

Ainsley felt such relief that he dropped into a nearby chair. What an idiot. He’d overreacted. It wasn’t like him to do so. Dr. Roberts offered more assurances before taking his leave.

Ainsley got up and poured himself more whiskey. “You should go see her.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I should do with my wife.”

Biting back his temper, Ainsley downed his whiskey before pouring more.

Walfort said quietly, with an apologetic mien, “I hadn’t expected it to be so hard.”

Ainsley glanced back at him. “It isn’t as long as you remember for whom we do it.”

H
e sat in the library long after Walfort had gone to see Jayne. He heard the door open. He expected to see one of his brothers strolling in to check on him. Instead it was his mother, who came to stand before him.

“Jayne will be fine. She needs only rest,” he told her, as though she’d asked. Why else would she be here except to discern the health of Jayne?

“Yes, I know. Mercy told me.”

He nodded. He’d forgotten Mercy had been there to assist the doctor. His attention was so focused on Jayne that it was a wonder he remembered his name.

“I’ve been thinking about things since Walfort announced that Jayne was with child.”

“Shouldn’t you be concentrating on your wedding?”

“Don’t make light of this, Ainsley. I’m most disappointed in you. You were instrumental in that accident with Walfort, then you cuckolded him—which I suspected at Blackmoor—but still to have not taken care with the girl, to ensure that she did not get with child—”

“It was done a-purpose, Mother, with Walfort’s full consent and blessing.”

It was not often he took his mother by surprise, but still he took no satisfaction in her wide rounded eyes.

He continued, “Jayne wanted a child more than anything in the world, and we owed her that. Because of our selfish stupidity, she lost the one she was carrying.”

“Oh, my dear son.” She sank into the chair opposite his. “What in God’s name have you done? What if it is a boy?”

“Then Walfort will have his heir.”

“An heir who should have been yours.”

“I wanted to see Jayne happy more than I wanted an heir. He shall not suffer because of it, Mother. He may not inherit as prestigious a title as mine, but I shall see to it that Walfort’s estate flourishes, even if I must do it in secret, behind his back. This child shall have more wealth than he would have had otherwise. And he shall have Jayne as his mother. There is no greater gift that I could have given him than Jayne as his mother.”

“You love her.”

The words came out as a statement, not a question, yet still he answered.

“With all my heart.” He plowed his hand through his hair, lowering the drawbridge to his soul for a brief instance. “The past few months have been pure hell.”

“Oh, Ainsley.”

At the sight of despair on her face, he abruptly closed the fortress, took a deep breath and straightened. “It is done. I shall simply have to live with it and its consequences.”

She squared her shoulders and gave him that steely, no-nonsense resolve. “We must set our course on finding you a wife.”

As though a solution to his heartache were so easily achieved.

“There is no other woman for me, Mother. I’ve not been with another since I left her. I have no interest in another.” Which was the reason he’d yet to acquire a mistress. It sounded like such a good idea until he thought about actually being with her. She could not replace Jayne.

“Well, I can tell you from experience,” she said, “that with enough lonely nights behind you, you’ll seek out another. And who knows? Perhaps you’ll be as fortunate with her as I’ve been with Leo.”

He did not share her optimism. Perhaps because he knew there was only one woman for him, and she would never be his wife.

“I’m sorry if any of this has reduced the joy you’d thought to find tomorrow,” he said.

“My heart aches for you, m’dear, but as long as Leo stands beside me tomorrow, nothing will diminish my joy of becoming his wife.”

“Why do you think he made such a secret of his last name?” he asked, to lighten the mood.

“He’s an artist. He’s eccentric.”

“Still, it seems that you should have known you’d become Mrs. Pinchot before you agreed to marry him.”

“His last name could have been Dunghill and I’d have not changed my mind. Such is love. Besides, I rather like it. Although many have told me that I shall always be ‘Duchess.’ I suppose I’ve held the title long enough to go by it if I so desire.”

“Do you desire?”

She shook her head. “Mrs. Pinchot suits me just fine.”

She rose, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “You were so terribly well behaved when you were a child. I worried about you. I suppose you had to be naughty sometime. But you rather outdid yourself here. Outdid your brothers as well.”

“I believe Stephen held his own as far as bad behavior.”

“Be that as it may, do try to start behaving again, won’t you?”

As she walked from the room, he downed the last of his whiskey. Perhaps he needed a wife. He’d once thought he’d marry only for love. Perhaps it was enough to marry in order to forget.

I
t was late the following morning when Jayne opened her eyes to find Ainsley leaning against the post at the foot of the bed. He was devilishly handsome in his black jacket and trousers. His cravat was perfect, just like the rest of him.

“Mother and Leo wanted me to give you their good-byes.”

“They’ve left? Is the wedding over, then?”

He grinned. “Hours ago. The guests have all been fed and are on their merry way. At least a dozen ladies wanted to speak with you, but Walfort and I decided you didn’t need to be disturbed. They were no doubt just looking for fodder for gossip anyway.”

“I’m sorry that I made such a spectacle of myself last night.”

“I fear I rather outdid you in that regard. I’m glad it turned out to be nothing.”

“As am I. Was the wedding nice?” she asked.

His grin broadened. “My mother was as giddy as a young girl.”

“Leo makes her happy.”

“He does indeed.”

“I’m sorry I missed it.”

“I’m sorry as well. The doctor thinks a few days of rest and you’ll be fine.”

“Yes, I think perhaps he’s right. I feel rather silly simply lying here.”

“I shall bring you some books from the library.”

“I would like that.”

“You should know that in the next hour or so I shall be leaving for London. Important matters require my attention.”

She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“I have something to give you before I leave.” From behind his back he brought forward a long, slender wooden box. She knew what it was, of course, and her heart contracted into a painful ball that had difficulty beating. He placed the box on the bed beside her. “When the child is old enough, I’d like you to give him this. It was my father’s. I’m not sure I ever told you that. He used it to spy on Napoleon. Or so I’m told. I don’t remember his ever saying that, though. He and I used it to spy on the stars. It’s the only vivid memory I have of him. I want your child to have it. Whether it be a boy or a girl.”

Her heart was breaking. Damn him for this. “
You
should give it to him when he’s older.”

“No, I don’t see myself visiting Herndon Hall any longer. I’ve acquired a distaste for fox hunting of late.”

“Don’t do this, Ainsley,” she rasped, tears stinging her eyes.

Shaking his head, he gathered the droplets with his thumb. “I have no choice. Do you remember that first night when you told me that you didn’t expect it to be so blasted difficult? I am now where you were then.”

“Walfort will be lost without you. You are his dearest friend.”
And I will be lost as well.

“Walfort will be too busy raising his child to give much thought to my absence. You are to stay here until you feel well enough to travel, and you are not to leave a moment sooner.” Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good-bye, Jayne.”

She watched as he strode from the room. She wondered if any of them had truly understood the cost of what they were asking of each other.