The Courtesan Duchess (19 page)

Julia took another sip of brandy. “I’m merely tired. I feel as if I could sleep for days.” As if to prove it, she yawned.

“Do not sleep,” Theo told her. “Not until the doctor gets here and has a chance to look you over.”

The doctor arrived half an hour later. A nice, older man, he took his time examining her. He was gentle and respectful, and talked the whole time both to relax her and keep her awake.

When he finished, Theo and Angela came back into her room to hear the results.

“Her Grace has a slight concussion, which should resolve itself in a few days with some rest. I’ll leave laudanum for the pain, but I would advise against using it unless absolutely necessary. The ankle is sprained and should be elevated for a few days. In a week or so, Your Grace should be fine.”

He cleared his throat. “With regards to the babe, I couldn’t say whether Your Grace will lose it or not. Falls have been known to precipitate a miscarriage. So if Your Grace does not begin bleeding in the next day or so, I’d say it likely the pregnancy will keep. However, if Your Grace begins cramping or bleeding, send for the midwife. I am happy to come as well, but Mrs. Popper has plenty of experience when it comes to both losing and birthing babies. She might be able to give you something to help stop the process.”

The room fell silent.
Falls have been known to precipitate a miscarriage.
The words rang in Julia’s ears. Her chest constricted, every bit as painful as her ankle.

Angela showed the doctor out while Theo came over to sit on Julia’s bed. “Do not cry, my dear,” her aunt said, and stroked Julia’s hair. “Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“But you don’t know that,” Julia whispered, tears now falling in earnest. “No one knows. Oh, Theo. What will I do if I lose this baby? I shall never forgive myself.” A sob escaped from her chest, and Theo’s arms enveloped her.

“Shhhhh, it is not your fault. It was an accident. Nothing more.” Her aunt rubbed her back, rocking her, as Julia cried and cried.

“That is enough,” Theo finally told her. Her aunt gently forced her back on the pillows. “You will lose the baby if you do not save your strength. Be strong, Julia. That little one needs you. Crying and carrying on won’t help—but getting some rest and eating
will
.”

Julia dried her eyes with the edge of her coverlet. “You’re right. I must force myself to stay calm and get well.”

“Sleep, my dear. I’ll return to check on you in a little bit.”

 

 

That day and night were foggy. Sore and tired, all Julia wanted to do was sleep. Theo came in every few hours to check on her, waking her to give her food and drink when necessary. She helped Julia relieve herself, which caused Julia no end of embarrassment. But Theo was so matter-of-fact about it that Julia was grateful.

In the morning, she slept late but felt remarkably better. As of yet, she had no bleeding or cramping—a very good sign all would be well with the babe. She planned to follow the doctor’s advice while doing her best not to worry. Theo was right: Julia needed to save her strength.

After breakfast, Theo brought a few old copies of
La Belle Assemblée
for them to read while Julia remained in bed. Then Angela visited for a short while in the afternoon to give Theo a break.

“I do not require constant supervision,” Julia told her sister-in-law. “You and Theo should enjoy the day, not sit here with me. Go.” She motioned to the door. “Besides, I want to nap.”

Convinced Julia told the truth, Angela left. Julia snuggled down in her pillows and went back to sleep.

The rest of the day was spent much in the same manner, resting and assuring the two other women of her improved condition.

Meg had just taken away her dinner tray when the outer door burst open.

Her husband, looking as haggard and disheveled as Julia had ever seen him, flew into the room. At least a day’s worth of stubble peppered his jaw, and his eyes were rimmed red and surrounded by dark circles. Cravat askew, his rumpled clothing was covered with dust from the road.

Mouth agape, Julia blurted, “Colton! Whatever are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “One of the footmen brought news of your accident, madam. I wanted to assess the extent of your injuries for myself.”

Had he been . . . worried about her? He must have ridden like the devil to make it here this quickly. Joy blossomed in Julia’s chest, and she tried not to smile.

“Tell me what happened. You were walking in the woods? Were you alone?”

She shook her head. “No. Lady Lambert was with me.”

“And you tripped?”

“Yes, on an exposed root. I must have misjudged the distance. Then I could not catch my balance and tumbled down an embankment. But I am fine, really. A slight concussion and a twisted ankle, both mending nicely since Theo won’t let me out of bed.”

“And the babe?”

She paused, searching Nick’s eyes to find some emotion other than concern. Hope? She noticed he didn’t say
my
babe but rather
the
babe. Had he hoped she would miscarry?

God in heaven, that must be why he had raced to her side. The joy she experienced only a moment ago withered like a flower in the hot sun. He’d rushed here in hopes she would lose the baby, offering a tidy solution to all his problems.

She took a deep breath, fighting the despair weighing on her heart. The situation was futile. She would never change his mind. Nick would never believe her or accept their child. “I am sorry to disappoint you, husband,” she said softly, “but I did not lose the babe. At least, not yet.”

He frowned. “Regardless of how I feel about the child, I do not wish you harm, Julia.”

Julia couldn’t bring herself to answer. A miscarriage
would
harm her. She would never recover from it. Her body, yes; but there would never be a child conceived under similar circumstances, with such passion and affection. Now existed only cold mistrust between them, and Julia had not the energy for the battle any longer.

She turned her head, averted her gaze, and willed him to go away.

After a moment, he sighed. “I plan to stay a few days, until you are back on your feet,” he told her quietly. “When I return to London, Fitz will remain here to watch over you.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “I hardly think a guard necessary, Colton. I merely stumbled.”

“I am not so sure. And until I am, Fitz stays.” He gestured to the small chamber she had appropriated upon arriving almost two months ago. “Why are you not in the duchess’s chambers?”

Julia shrugged. “Angela appropriated those rooms when your mother died. I did not think it fair to ask her to move out. Besides, this room is sufficient enough for me.”

Nick spun on his heel and strode to the door. “Fetch Lady Lambert at once,” he told a footman lingering in the hall.

“Colton, really—” Julia began, only to stop when he held up a hand.

“You are mistress of this house and deserve to be treated as such. Not to mention, you’ll sleep where I tell you to sleep.”

“Not after eight years I won’t,” she tossed back. Did he honestly believe he could order her about after ignoring her for so long? “You cannot selectively choose when to exert your rights as a husband, Colton.”

His lids dropped and he gave her a lazy, smug smile. “I think we both know I’d never need to resort to
husbandly rights,
Juliet.”

Julia gasped at the use of the name, which had certainly not been a slip of the tongue. Oh, if only she could wipe that smirk off his face. Just as she was about to tell him to go to the devil, the door opened.

“Your Grace!” Angela exclaimed, her expression one of surprise. “We did not know you had arrived.” Theo came in right behind her, both of them staring curiously at Colton.

“I know. I came up here first.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I would like my wife to have the chambers adjoining mine, as is her rightful place in this household. Please clear your belongings out tonight.”

Angela’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, of course,” she breathed. “I never meant any disrespect to Julia. I offered to move and she told me—”

“Well, now
I’m
telling you,” Nick said, his voice edged with hard steel.

“Of course. Right away. If you will excuse me.” Angela turned and left.

“Colton, that was unnecessary,” Julia protested.

“No, he is right,” Theo put in from the doorway. “She should have given up those chambers without being asked. Good evening, Your Grace.” She curtsied.

Nick gave Theo a small bow. “Lady Carville.”

“Will you be staying with us a few days?”

“Yes, until my wife is back on her feet.”

Theo shot Julia a brief glance. “How interesting,” she murmured. “Well, I shall see both chambers are cleaned and readied.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Julia shut her eyes and rubbed her temples. Heavens, she was exhausted, confused, and angry. Colton had been nothing but a nuisance since coming to England. Had he truly been
disappointed
she hadn’t miscarried? Was he so cruel? Tears pooled behind her lids, both for their child and the man she’d fallen in love with in Venice—a man she knew she’d never see again.

“You need to rest,” Nick said, his tone flat. “I shall return to help move you to your new chamber.”

She nodded and heard him leave the room. Rolling over, she unleashed her tears into her pillow.

 

 

Nick closed his wife’s door and strode down the hall. Emotion churned in his gut and he desperately needed a drink. He’d ridden half the night and all day, hardly leaving the saddle except to change horses, the fear over Julia’s health nearly driving him mad.

And seeing her so pale and tired, it had been all he could do to stop from wrapping his arms around her and never letting go.

What was wrong with him?

She had likely tricked him in the worst way a woman could deceive a man. Yet, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. For six weeks, he’d tried to forget her—and failed. Nights were the worst, when the smell of her . . . the feel of her . . . the taste of her haunted him. And after what happened at Madame Hartley’s, Nick hadn’t the desire to try again with another woman. So he was trapped, desperate for the one woman he could not allow himself to have.

He’d vowed to stay away from Seaton Hall, hoping the terrible need would dissipate. Then in September, when he learned whether the babe was his or not, Nick could leave without regrets. After all, she hadn’t wanted a husband—she’d wanted a baby born under the protection of the Seaton name. Julia had said herself that he should leave and go back to Venice.

Clearly the woman did not yearn for him.

So why was he so bewitched by her?

He found Thorton, the butler. The man had been at Seaton Hall for as long as Nick could remember. Although in his late sixties or early seventies, Thorton was remarkably spry for a man of advanced years. When Nick and Fitz had arrived earlier in the evening, Thorton had almost sprinted in an effort to alert the staff of the duke’s presence.

“Have Mr. Fitzpatrick located and sent to the study,” Nick ordered.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Thorton returned in his raspy baritone.

Nick strode into the opulent study, a room used by his brother, his father, and the rest of the bloody Colton dukes. If that wasn’t depressing enough, the room held especially dark memories for Nick since he’d discovered his brother’s body here.

He went to the sideboard and was grateful to find it well stocked. He poured a healthy glass of his father’s best whisky. At least he didn’t have his mother to contend with any longer. He could still remember many of the scoldings she’d given him—in front of his father, of course—in this very room. Her favorite topic had always been the disappointment that was her second son.

Then, the night after his brother’s funeral, he’d stood here with both his parents, hate and blame in their eyes as they stared at their only surviving child. Nick had tried to explain, but no one believed him. So he’d stopped explaining.

He tossed back a mouthful of spirits, chasing away the bitter memories with the oak and peat-flavored whisky. Christ, he hated this place.

Instead of sitting behind the large desk, Nick chose a small chair by the fireplace. A brief knock sounded before Fitz lumbered into the room.

“Good evening, Your G—”

“Do not say it,” Nick snapped. “I’ve been
Your Grace’
d to death since returning to this damned pile of rocks.” He stood and returned to the sideboard, where he poured Fitz a whisky as well. “Sit, Fitz.”

Nick handed Fitz the glass and retook his own seat. “Tomorrow, I want to ride out to the forest path and look at where my wife fell. I want to verify for myself it was an accident.”

“You suspect otherwise?”

Something about it gnawed at Nick. Two mysterious falls in such a short period of time, if one considered his mother’s death. Could it be coincidence?

When first told of the dowager duchess’s death, he’d assumed Satan had grown tired of waiting for the harpy and arrived to collect her. But now he wondered over the circumstances. Had she tripped or had it been . . . something else? Seemed unlikely. Sheer evil was deuced difficult to kill, after all. And who would’ve wanted to do her in? A disgruntled staff member weary of being berated?

Yet with his own share of scrapes, Nick had learned to trust his instincts. And right now, two falls appeared too much to brush off—at least not until he checked Julia’s accident site for himself.

He shrugged. “I confess I do not know. But to trip and fall at the precise point where the path steepens? You of all people know the danger in assuming that tragic events are mere coincidence. So until my curiosity has been satisfied, I want her protected. In fact, when I go back to London, I want you to remain here in my absence.”

Fitz scowled, the scar on his face twisting viciously. “Why?”

“It appears my wife needs more watching over than I do.”

Fitz shook his head. “No. Why will you be goin’ back to London?”

Because I cannot stay here and not touch her.
“It is better if I leave.”

“Better for who?” Fitz gulped some whisky, the small, delicate glass almost comical in his large hands. “I never picked you for a coward.”

Nick started to deny it, but Fitz knew him too well. So he said nothing, merely stared into the fire.

“How long will you be stayin’, then?” Fitz asked.

“Until she’s mended. Perhaps two or three days.”

“Aye, I’ll watch over her, but you’d best take heed in London. If somethin’ happens to you whilst I am here, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You needn’t worry. Quint hardly leaves my side as it is. He’s taken your warnings regarding my safety to heart.”

“When will you be forgivin’ Lord Winchester, then?”

Nick’s shoulders tightened. “When I bloody feel like it, Fitz.” He hadn’t spoken to Winchester since the day in his study, when his friend told him of Julia’s financial troubles. “And why do you care?”

“I don’t. Seems a shame, though, to throw away an old friendship because Winchester did the gentlemanly thing.”

“The gentlemanly thing?” Nick growled through a clenched jaw. “Helping my wife pose as a
whore
to trick me? Making a fool out of me? Lying to my face? Is this what gentlemen do where you’re from?”

Fitz shook his head. “No. Where I’m from, if a man ignored his wife for eight years, leavin’ her to almost starve, her family would be meetin’ him in a back alley with a fist or two.”

“Yes, her
family
. Not her husband’s best friend.”

“Winchester considers her family, though.” He drained his glass and rose to his feet where he towered over Nick. “And you know it. You just don’t want to admit you’re wrong. You never do, you bloody stubborn duke.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, and this stubborn duke can have you sleeping in the stables if you aren’t careful.”

Fitz threw his head back and chuckled. “I’ve slept in worse spots than your stables, Your Grace. In fact, it’s a palace compared to some of the Dublin alleys I’ve found myself in. I’m off to bed, unless you’ll be needin’ anything else.”

“No. You’ve done enough for one night.”

Thorton came in next. “Your Grace, the main chambers have been readied for yourself and Her Grace.”

“Thank you. I will see to settling my wife in her new room. Have her maid move Her Grace’s things in the morning.”

“Very well, Your Grace. Good night.”

“Good night, Thorton.” Nick finished his whisky and stretched. He was exhausted. The sooner he got Julia settled, the sooner he could find his own bed.

When he knocked softly on his wife’s door, there was no answer. He peeked in—only to see she was fast asleep. Moving silently, he came forward, intent on scooping her up. Instead, he found himself pausing by her bed.

Her breathing even and deep, she looked peaceful. Innocent. Her long blond hair swirled around a face carved by angels, and while the covers hid her body from his view, Nick remembered every luscious bit. Dreamed of her curves each night. Merely being in the same room with her made him ache.

Hard to say why, but he wanted her in the room directly next to his.
Because you’re a fool,
a voice whispered in the back of his head.

He pulled back the bedclothes and sucked in a breath. Her night rail had crept up her legs, revealing creamy, smooth thighs, while her breasts, now even larger with pregnancy, strained at the bodice. Desire punched Nick in the gut, and he closed his eyes, fighting to regain control.

He tried not to think about sliding into her bed, naked, and making love to her.

When he felt more himself again, he lifted his lids—and that’s when he spotted the gentle swell of her belly. It wasn’t much but he could see a bump under the thin cotton. Christ, it was truly a baby. Nick dragged a hand down his face, emotions cascading though him.

The plan was solid, he reminded himself. When it was proven the child wasn’t his, he could leave the country without giving the boy or girl the protection of his name. If he happened to be wrong and it
was
his . . . Well, he’d never wanted to be a father—he didn’t know how, really—and he didn’t want to stay in England.

But it wasn’t really his child . . . was it?

The possibility was too much to think about. Nick slid his arms underneath Julia, one behind her neck and one under her knees. She sighed as he lifted her, her arms winding around his neck. Nick smothered a groan. Not only were her breasts crushed against his chest, but also her scent—gardenias, so sweet and familiar—enveloped him. It made him long for those innocent nights in Venice, before he knew of her deceit.

Nick slowly traveled the long corridor and turned the corner. The duchess’s chambers adjoined his at the far end of the east wing, though he’d never slept in the master suite. The last time he’d been at Seaton Hall, his father had still been alive. It had been Harry’s funeral.

Nick nudged open the door with his boot and stepped inside Julia’s new apartments. The rooms were large, decorated with his mother’s heavy hand. Nick made a mental note to tell his wife to redecorate at her leisure. Now that he’d gone though the estate finances, he knew they could well afford any changes she wanted to make to Seaton Hall.

Hell, she could burn the place down and start over for all he cared.

He leaned over and gently placed Julia on the bed. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her arms. “Nick,” she breathed against his throat.

He froze. Indecision gripped him, anger and pride battling the raging lust in his groin. How easy it would be to give in, he thought. To sink into her softness and slake his need for her. Only, what then?

A quick glance at her face convinced him she was asleep. Relieved, he untangled her arms from around his neck and lifted the bedclothes to cover her. He stood for another minute, watching and wanting her. Torturing himself.

Before he could prevent it, Nick bent to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Her skin was cool and supple, and it was hell to pull back. Sighing, he went to the adjoining chamber and fell into bed, clothes and all.